


Spindle

by orphan_account



Series: Burn Trilogy [2]
Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Child Abuse, Cutting, Drug Addiction, Drugs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-08
Updated: 2010-09-01
Packaged: 2017-10-10 10:49:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 27,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/98923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collab: <i> Everything is fading out, I couldn't keep it together even if I knew how. So I swallowed it down. Hold me down before I float away. In my darkest hour I go insane.</i> -Sequel to "Burn". Cassidy's a cutter and Brad's a druggie; both sent to the ward.</p><p>The events of what caused Brad to change to what he is in Burn and his relation to Cassidy</p><p>Discalmer - Don't own these guys</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ages-  
> Brad -17  
> Cassidy- 15  
> Tommy- 11  
> Longineu -18

Quick glance over the shoulder, and it's clear. I lean against the wall beside the back door, pulling up the sleeve of my shirt as fast as I can, before plucking the needle from a small pouch that's sewn on the inside of said shirt. Gripping the point cap with my teeth, I spit the rubber cap back to the ground, inhaling slowly as the tip punctured my skin, sinking into a vein. And, plunge. Ahh, yes. My head swims slightly and I pull the needle back out again, tossing it onto the ground beside a dumpster. No one's going to notice it immediately, and I've got plenty back home.

Pulling my sleeve back down, I take a few steps forward, pounding on the backdoor. The lock clicks and I step inside, instantly surrounded by sex and music. I smile, swaying to the beat of the song as I practically throw myself into the sweating masses of people. The lights are flashing with neon colors and wall to wall, the club is packed. Packed with desire and want and alcohol. God, I fucking love it here.   
The club itself is decorated simply, but the colors are intense. There are streamers hanging from the banisters of the second floor balconies, lights swaying from people touching them or throwing things around. The air's thick with just about everything and anything imaginable. The DJ's ripping out tunes on the stage to my left, the bar is packed to my right. It's a second world out here and it's the most exotic place to be. Friday night, and I'm already feeling the high.

Instantly it seems, someone grabs me and thrusts against my hips, head thrown back in ecstasy. Who am I not to return the favor. My hands rest first on their hips before sliding back. Hey, it's a club. I'm allowed to get some ass action. I smile, closing my eyes and swimming in a sea of pleasure as the bass of the music pounds itself into my being. People grind against me, touching me, biting and dancing with me. This is what I live for, right here. The club scene, the drugs, the sex and the beauty.

God the beauty. Fuck yes.

I pry myself away after God knows how long, and I stumble through the angry mobs of people towards the bar. I need something to drink. Water, beer, vodka, anything that'll extinguish this dry fire in the back of my throat. Water's healthiest, but alcohol's tastiest. Oh yes indeed. Lights flash in my eyes and I rest my hands on the edge of the counter where there's space. The bartender is young, dark hair, dark eyes. Totally sexy. Also totally not my type. Pity. He looks interested.

"What can I get you, love?" He asks me with a smile on his glossed lips and I giggle a little over the music. I order a small shot, just something to keep me going. He nods once, whipping it out faster than I've ever seen before, and I smile in thanks, passing him a bill to pay my tab. I turn, leaning against the edge of the counter and throwing my head back, downing the shot. Burning. Delicious. Aha, fuck yeah. I giggle again, swallowing and glancing over to my right, stopping to stare.

Now here's a pretty sight sitting right next to me. Thin, toned and glowing under the neon lights. Brilliant golden brown hair and signs of aging stubble. Beautiful light brown eyes that seem so soft and sad. What's he doing here? He looks so young. I couldn't guess more than sixteen at the least. Not that I am much better. Seventeen years old. But hey, I know people who had ways. He turns his head away from the emptiness of his glass and catches my eye. A double take, and we stare at each other before I look away, a smile tugging at my lips. He's cute. Like, really, really cute.

He doesn't say anything to me, but out of the corner of my eye I can see him smiling a little, his face turning a little red. Such a pretty smile for a pretty boy. I bite down on my bottom lip, blinking a little as a cloud of dizziness washes over me, but I shake it off. I'm fine. Damned drugs. I turn my head towards him again, licking my lips a little before nudging his elbow with mine. He looks over at me again, his eyes bright and wide.

"What's your name, love?" I ask him over the music as it hits a soft spot. He blushes a little more than before, twirling his empty glass in his hands before answering me.

"Cassidy." He says to me. His voice is gentle, very soft and angelic. I smile, looking him over. He's wearing a dark blue t-shirt and black skinny jeans, a small chain necklace hanging around his neck. His wrists are covered with checkered wristbands, his fingers long and thin. I wonder if he's a musician. I smile at him again, showing straight, white teeth.

"Brad." I hold my hand out to him, and he takes it, shaking it once, his eyes shy and sweet. He's so damn adorable, I could just wrap my arms around him right now. But I resist the temptation to do such (don't wanna seem too strange now), and I smile gently to him again, giggling just under the music. He returns the graced smile, and his face goes a little red in the cheeks. God, why do you create beautiful boys to taunt me?

"So, what brings you to a place like this?" I ask him to break the somewhat silence between us, tapping on the edge of my glass after I manage to catch the tender's eyes. I want more. And he nods. I return my focus to Cassidy, who's fidgeting nervously with his glass for a moment, gnawing on his bottom lip. It may be the alcohol or the speed, but part of me wonders what it would be like to taste those lips. He's so cute. _'Shut up Brad, and let the boy talk before you decide to fuck his mouth with your tongue.'_

"I just… Needed to get away from home, you know?" He says, his fingers pulling away from the glass, and he aimlessly rubs his thumb over the fabric of the left wristband. I frown slightly, nodding once before I down my second shot. Ah, that's better. I set the glass back down before turning in my seat to look at him, my chin resting in the palm of my hand, my elbow on the counter.

"Oh, I understand that completely. Family can be a little unbearable sometimes." Not that I would know really. I left home when I was fourteen. Couldn't handle the stupid rules and requirements that my parents had for me. They didn't like the fact I'm gay. They tried to turn me. So, I left. And here I am now. But these aren't really the things on my mind. I'm still staring at Cassidy, admiring how young and beautiful he looks, and the fact that he's just so damned perfect, it seems… He glances over at me before smiling again, laughing a little.

"Don't look at me like that." He mutters, blushing further. I grin ear to ear, tilting my head to the side in my hand, blinking once.

"Like what?" I ask him, my voice soft. Only he can hear me right now, and his eyes are so beautiful in this lighting…

"Like I'm something beautiful." He says sadly, and my heart just stops. My smile fades little by little and he looks away from me again, clenching one of his wrists in his hand and squeezing it a little before letting go again. I reach out, taking his right hand in my left, and he looks back over at me, a soft blue light washing over his face before fading out again.

"But you are." I tell him, leaning over as my fingers grace his cheek, pulling him to me. He doesn't fight. Instead, he leans in with me, pressing his lips to mine. I moan softly, cupping his face, trailing my tongue along his bottom lip. He shivers in my hands, opening his mouth to let me inside. He tastes sweet, and his arms wrap around me a little, pulling me to him. I smile against his mouth, one hand on his face and the other winding into his hair.

No one's paying any attention to us, and to be honest I have no problem with that. I eventually pull Cassidy out of his seat, leading him into the sea of dancing sex. He smiles, giggling and blushing as I pull him close to me, grinding against him and spinning him in circles. He's so beautiful and alive, my heart swells at the sight of him. I've heard stories of people who've met at clubs. The relationship goes both ways, depending on the people. They can have the most exotic and beautiful romance ever. Or it ends up in a one night stand and neither are completely satisfied. I'm praying that this isn't the case here.

Cassidy wraps his arms around my neck (I'm just a little taller than he is), and he's smiling up at me. I lean down, kissing him again as my hands rest on his hips, before sliding, my arms around his waist, pulling him to me. I can feel his heart beating against my shirt, and it's the most exciting thing to feel. I barely know him and yet I feel as if he's always been here in my life. And I just haven't quite found him before.

Brad, my boy, you need to lay off the speed. And the vodka.

Whatever.

My hands slip, and I grab Cassidy's ass. He squeals, blushing, and I feel something sitting in his back pocket. I look down at him, my fingers sliding into the pocket, and his face goes pale. My fingers curl around something plastic, and I pull it out, half-expecting a condom. But it's not. I look down into my palm, seeing a small baggie filled with a white powder. My heart pounds in my chest and I look back to him. He doesn't meet my gaze, and he's gnawing nervously on his bottom lip.

"I-it's not mine, I-I'm supposed to give it to a friend…" He mutters. I chuckle, shaking my head.

"You're a horrible liar." Holding onto the bag, I take his hand in mine. "C'mon." I pull him away from the dance floor, out the back door and into the city streets. My apartment isn't far from here, and I don't want to take him home right now. He follows me, holding onto my hand and staying close to me, like a lost little puppy. I smile, pulling him through back alleys and off the main streets. Los Angeles isn't the best place for two teenagers at midnight. Especially gay teenagers. Fucking homophobes.

It doesn't take long. A few streets and more back alleys, still. Open a door and up a flight of stairs, I pull him by the hand to the third floor, walking down a narrow hallway, passing various other apartments. I unlock my door, leading him inside. It's quaint. It's small and cozy too. Cassidy looks around, his eyes mystified and a little tired. I pull him to the left, down a ten foot hallway. There's three doors. A bathroom on the left, a linen closet at the end, and the bedroom on the right. I open the door to the right, flicking the light switch and I motion for him to sit on the edge of the bed.

I cross to the closet, pulling the door open and moving a few shirts out of the way to reveal a small white box sitting on a low shelf. I grab the box, holding it under my arm as I turn back to face Cassidy. He's sitting silently as I place the box on the bed, crossing my legs under me. He turns to look at me, his face in wonder as I lift the lid. We he looks inside, his eyes grow wide like saucers and I think he forgets to breathe. Syringes, a few lighters, spoons, straws, bags containing powder, strips of latex… I have a my own little supply shop in a white shoe box.

"I hardly believe that stash you had was for someone else." I tell him softly, and he looks down.

"No… it… You're right, it's mine." He says, and I nod once, pulling out the bag I'd confiscated from him. He watches intently as I have him hold one of the spoons steadily in his hands. I pour the contents into the curve, careful not to drop too much, if any at all. I grab a lighter from the box, holding it under the spoon as I flick it twice, the flame catching and heating the metal, melting the power into a sort of burnt yellow goo. Cassidy's breathing hard, and I smile at him, telling him to relax by touching his knee. He nods once, and we watch the drug melt more. It's like watching a firework being lit. Kind of boring, but you're so excited that it looks really cool. And then it explodes.

I release the switch of the lighter, setting it back into the box before grabbing a syringe, sticking the needle into the edge. It's liquefied enough that it'll suck in easily. My hands are steady as they work, filling the barrel with the entirety of the contents. Cassidy's eyes are still wide, but he's calmer now. I take the spoon from his hands, setting it down on the lid of the box. I have him hold the syringe, before snatching a strip of latex and tying it somewhat tightly around his upper arm. He shifts a little, and I know he's uncomfortable. I don't blame him.

 

"The first couple of times, you're going to feel the needle, and it's going to hurt. But after a while, you don't notice it." I tell him, taking the syringe again and rubbing the inside of his arm, feeling for the veins. They're swelled and exposed like blue highways. It's beautiful. "Just remember to breathe." I tell him, piercing his skin with the point, and slowly draining the gold into his arm.


	2. Chapter Two

The needle throbs in my skin, but not in a pain like before. It takes a few minutes before I feel the low buzz in my system, and I fall backwards on the bed the colors shifting in my vision. I can feel Brad pull out the needle quickly disposing it into the trash. My mind is in a low haze, a soothing one. The colors blur and shift and I can feel Brad's fingers trace over my wrist.

The simple contact feels really good, I wince slightly as he traces over the wristband and I look him in the eyes, they look like they're smoldering. The buzz in my mind is so pleasant; Brad comes up to sit right beside me grinning. "How does it feel?" He asks his voice, it sounds beautiful, I feel like I've known him forever.

"Amazing." The low buzz is soothing so much better than what I usually do, it's too bad that I can't afford this and risk of letting my parents find out. I got lucky; Longineu a friend of mine knows where to get this stuff if he's not running from the cops, the eighteen year old has so much trouble for him. Brad's fingers are stroking over my face lightly, and it makes me blush and look him in the eyes.

"You're a pretty one." He whispers his voice a little light it makes him sound like he's floating and it sends me into a round of giggles as I fall laughing on the pillows staring up at him. He leans down over me pecking my forehead, and I blush again while giggling. "You're cute you know that." He whispers against my ear, and my checks are pretty red by now.

I feel so light like I have no cares right now. It feels wonderful. Could I just stay here forever? Brad presses his lips gently to mine and it feels like fluid water, it feels so effortless so right. My arms wrap around his neck, and he kisses me softly his lips gently pecking over mine in finger light touches. The kisses turn a little rough as Brad sucks against my lower lip, nipping a little. I moaned, my fingers clutching at his hair, it feels so good. So good.

The kisses gain their fever as shift on the bed moving, Brad's arms wrapped around my neck as I kiss him hard. Our breathing is rough, ragged as we lay beside each other panting, my face flushed from kissing so long, and our lips are swollen. Brad's lips are a darker pink and I touch my fingers to it, the buzz making everything feel so much better. I love it.

"Cassidy, you wanna stay the night?" I glance at the clock, far too late to go home.

I nod; I figure I can just leave in the morning, besides Brad seems like a pleasant person. "Yeah just let call my mother." I pull out my small cell phone from my pocket dialing numbers; no one picks up no surprise. I leave a message, the buzz less now. I'm able to think a little more clearly. "Thanks." I said Brad who's lying on the bed eyes watching the ceiling.

"No problem." His answer is quiet, and I lay on the bed beside him my head on his chest. It doesn't feel wrong; it feels a lot safer than anything. His arm wraps around me and I close my eyes, I'm warm and happy. Maybe it's the drugs talking. Who knows but I'm drifting, and I fall asleep to Brad's breathing a warm feeling in my bones.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I blink; the first thing I realize is I have a pounding headache. Must of have been a side effect to the drugs. Second thing I realize Brad isn't on the bed anymore, third thing I realize I feel like utter shit. I see a note on the bed.

_ Sorry Cass. I had to leave this morning, a friend of mine had plans with me, but my cell number is written down here. I would love to see you again. - Brad. P.S- Oh and if you're looking for any leftover Heroin it's in the second shoebox to the left, it's already melted down into needles._

I add his number to my phone, and then glance at the slightly ajar shoebox with a street term scribbled across it. I hesitate thinking about whether or not I should take a needle, there small enough to hide without the cops knowing, but I slip one in my pocket and I hope my mother won't find out about this. I drop Brad a note, and then exist the apartment.

It doesn't take me that long to get back home, my mother greets me as I walk in and I head upstairs to my bedroom, shutting the door. I have a door that connects to my bathroom in my bedroom, I open the door and shut and lock it behind me. I strip off my blue tee shirt staring into the mirror. Brad didn't see this, and I don't think I'll ever show him.

Bruises mare my upper torso, faint ones now but they weren't a few days ago. Now there a purplish green yellow color, my eyes don't dwell on them as I slip off my left wristband. My cutting wrist. Most people don't notice the pattern at all, my mother thinks nothing of it, and then again she hasn't seen my scars. Thin lines are outlined on the skin, small webs of red scars. I trace over the self inflicted wounds before searching for small razor blade I keep.

I find the small blade; it's been cleaned after I do this. I press the metal into the scars already there my breath hitching slightly. I like the pain; it reminds me I'm different. It's the reason I have the bruises. I'm nothing but a fag to them. I cut the metal harder into my skin and my breathing gets a little rough, and I wince only slightly at the pain as blood pools out of the wound staining the metal crimson. It's beautiful it's the proof I'm surviving. I set the blade down on the white china of the sink the blood hitting the white; I grab a thing of gauze tearing a piece off spraying it down with peroxide before fitting it over the wounds. The fresh blood lines.

I pull off my jeans sliding them off my body, before throwing on the shower cleaning myself from the night before. The water feels good against my skin and I lean against my shower titles. Did I want to see Brad again? Did I want to let him in? The thoughts echoed in my head, as I finish showering and step out of the shower, and walk into my bedroom and into my closet.

I find one of my pairs of leather jeans and slip those over a pair of boxers, and throw on a white tee shirt, and grab my sketch pad off my desk, followed by my phone. I tell my mother I'm headed out for awhile and make my way downtown, stopping at the crappier apartments. Longineu lives around here and for my sake its better not to stick out. I slip my leather wristband onto my non-cut wrist.

I'm halfway there when a group of kids- Shit. I know those kids, and they don't like me and this is where my bruises   
are from, the blonde in there group walks up smirking at me. "Hey fag." He says to me causally like it's nothing.

"What jackass?" I hiss back, I'm not in the mood for this crap. For once could this not happen when I need to show Longineu important designs. I don't get the chance to walk away instead, I get a hard slap to my face, and it knocks me onto the ground, and I wince in pain as they kick and punch my ribs as I'm on the ground.

"Stupid fag." One of the other boys hisses and they vanish after one more hard kick that leaves me winded.

I don't know how long I'm lying there for but by the time I get up I'm sore and can't more too well without limping. A little boy walks over to me, I know him as soon as I see his trademark blonde hair over his brown eyes, and he walks over to me his eyes wide. "Cass, are you okay?" His voice is small childish.

"I'm okay kiddo." I say to him as he helps pull me up so I'm sitting up, and he sits beside me.

"You don't look okay." He says.

"Glitterbaby, don't worry about me okay." I say to him. "Does my face look bad?" I ask him.

"No." The little blonde's reply is soft.

I run a finger though his hair, before grabbing my sketchbook. "Is Longineu around?" I ask him.   
He frowns shaking his head.

"Dammit." I curse.

"He said he would be back later." The blonde says.

"It's alright Tommy. I have someone else I can see." I reply as I pull out my phone dialing his number.

"Hey Brad."

He sounds breathless when he picks up the phone. "Cass you called."

"Yeah, you mind if I drop by your house. I want to show you something."

"Sure." He seems happy, really happy.

Great. I'll see you in a few." I answer slightly flushed a little.

Tommy looks at me grinning. "Somebody has a crush." He says to me grinning.

"Oh shut it Shorty." I say to me as I walk back to Brad's apartment.

When Brad answers the door he's a little flushed, but he looks pretty real pretty and I really want to kiss him. So I do, I place a small peck on his lips catching him off guard, and he flushes further as he invites me in. "So what did you want to show me?"

I flip open and sketchbook, and just merely grin.


	3. Chapter Three

I feel really fucking bad about leaving him alone. But as it is, I'm running really late to meet up with my friend, Longineu Parsons, for one of our… previously scheduled meetings, if you catch my drift. I quietly grab my leather jacket out of my closet, walking briskly over to where he sleeps. I pull open the drawer in the side table, grabbing a bulky envelope and tucking it into the waist band of my jeans, pulling my shirt over it. I lean down, kissing him on the cheek, smiling. I've left him a note on the side table for him to read. It has my number on it. My heart is pounding with the hope that he'll call me later as I step out, closing the door to the bedroom, before rushing out of my apartment, keys in hand.

I rush down the hall and down the three flights of stairs and out the main door of the building. My car is parked in the side alley to my left, and I walk easily towards the darkened side street. Opening the gate, I unlock my '86 Honda, slipping into the driver's seat. I slide the keys into the ignition, turning and smiling as it purrs to life gently. I put the car into gear, rolling out of my spot and out the gate. It's got a sensor, so once I'm out it begins to slid closed again. I turn to my right, heading down the street. Los Angeles is a bright, sunny place. Almost as if it has a split personality. Decent and beautiful in the day. Dark, mysterious and sexy at night.

Hmm, meow. Haha.

The buildings blur by me and I'm tapping my fingers to the beat of the music in my stereo. I don't know what it is, but I like it. It's catchy, synthetic. The kinds of things I want to do one day. Yeah, I'm a music freak. I've got dreams of doing my own work. I've just never had the opportunity before. I sigh sadly, shaking it off as I sway to the music. It's really fucking good. It's probably Depeche Mode or something. It wouldn't surprise me.

I turn onto a different street, heading down a line of apartments before pulling into an open parking spot beneath a metal covering. I kill the engine, making sure the envelope's tucked securely into my pants before getting out of my car and locking it up tight. I walk up to the side walk, crossing to my left and climbing a flight of stone steps, up to Longineu's apartment. He's sitting outside his door, his skin a rich chocolaty brown, his dreadlocks hanging around his face. Oh, and he's shirtless, as usual.

Sitting next to him is an angelic little boy with porcelain skin and golden blond hair, deep brown eyes, wearing faded blue jeans and a black t-shirt over his thin frame. I've never seen him before, but I'm not going to lie, he's adorable. I smile sweetly at him, before looking over at the Longineu. He nods once, before turning his attention back to the boy, ruffling those golden locks.

"If he comes around, tell him I'm out, okay? I've got some business to take care of." Longineu says softly. I'm curious as to who the "he" is, but I decide not to ask about it.

"Okay." The boy's voice is so sweet, and he stands, brushing past me and heading down the stairs. I watch him go, smiling. Sweet kid.

"Thanks, kiddo." Longineu stands, and opens the door of his apartment, beckoning me inside first. He has this thing about being the first to enter his apartment when there's company. I can't explain it though. I don't really even ask him about it, either. I step inside, my shoes sinking into the plush carpet of the living room. He steps in behind me, closing the door and locking it. I cross to the couch, plopping down on it before lifting my shirt and pulling the envelope out. Longineu looks over at me, a smile tugging at his lips.

"For me?" He says in a soft voice, as if he's a kid on Christmas morning. I roll my eyes and I throw it at him. He catches it, looking inside.

"All four hundred. That should cover what I owed you and what I want now." He looks up at me, curious for a moment before folding the envelope up and tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans. He goes to a mini fridge he has on the other side of the room, pulling out two bottles of beer, one for himself and one for me. He tosses it to me and I catch it just as easily as he caught the money. He plucks the bottle opener from the top of the fridge, cracking his open before tossing it to me, and I do the same.

"I just gave you some a few days ago. Don't tell me you're already out, bro." He stays standing by the mini fridge, his free hand in his pants pocket. I smile, taking a drink, twirling the bottle in my hands.

"No. I need information, and I know you don't like to give that information without something in return. Considering you're not gay and twenty-three years old, I can't just fuck it out of you." I say with a smirk, and Longineu laughs. He's got a great sense of humor, Longineu does. That's part of why he's one of my best friends.

"Understandable. So, what'cha need, Cheeks?" Cheeks is a nickname of mine. I don't really remember what started it, but ever since Longineu started calling me that, it just stuck. Not that I mind it really, I like it.

"I went clubbing last night—" I begin to say and Longineu laughs, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, here we go." I flip him the bird, and he laughs harder.

"Shut up, it was Friday. And I always go clubbing on Fridays." I tell him, and he waves his bottle at me, swallowing. He's telling me to continue. I nod once after taking another drink. "Anyways, I met someone while I was out. Cute little chap of a boy, beautiful brown eyes. Well, we were dancing, being sexy and everything, and I found something in his pocket." I pause, looking up at Longineu. He's frowning at me, confused.

"Packet of Gold in his back pocket." I say. Longineu licks his lips a little. "You're the only person I know of in this city who deals in Gold and speed." Longineu glances at me for a moment, before looking away again, pacing through the living room slowly.

"So? What's so important about the fact that I sold him Gold?" Gold is what we refer heroin to. It's easier that way, not as popular as some of the other street terms. If anyone were to overhear us talking about it (for whatever reason), they wouldn't understand. It's just so much simpler.

"Longineu, the boy couldn't have been any older than sixteen." I say angrily, clenching my beer bottle in both hands. I have to keep from shaking. I have to keep calm, because lashing out at Longineu is about as bad as lashing out at cops. Not only is he strong, but he's also smart and fast. Not to mention he's my source, but that's not what's important right now. Right now, I've got Cassidy's face in my head and I'm disappointed in my friend for dealing to him. He's so young.

"Cheeks, you're seventeen and still in high school. Is there really a difference?" He asks me, and I feel my blood boiling. But I stay in my seat, and I drop my head, staring at the carpeted floor. There really isn't. But sometimes I forget that I'm only seventeen. I just feel so old; I lose track of the fact I'm not actually an adult yet.

"I guess not." I mutter, defeated. I hate it when I get riled up only to prove that I have no point in my argument. I sigh, standing up and setting my half full beer down on the coffee table. I've still got to get back to my apartment. Part of me is hoping that Cassidy will still be there. I start to turn to leave when Longineu stops me, pulling the envelope back out. He plucks one hundred and fifty out, handing it to me.

"Get something proper to eat. You're looking too thin, Cheeks." He tells me. I bite down on my bottom lip, taking the money from his hand and nodding once. He smiles at me, walking over and unlocking the door, opening it for me. Just as he doesn't enter first, he doesn't exit first either. "I'll catch you around, Cheeks." He says, before closing the door after I step out.

My mind's in a haze as I walk back to my car, getting in and driving off again. I figure I'll just head back home, get cleaned up and try to decide what to do with my day. I don't play any music, and I don't really think as I drive. I didn't mention Cassidy's name for a variety of reasons. One, I didn't want Longineu to tell me that he didn't know anyone by the name of Cassidy. And two, I didn't really want him to get the boy into anything else. It's bad enough that I do speed and, on occasion, Gold (along with alcohol). Despite the need, the sickness that I have for these things, I hate it. I can't stand it at all.

I pull back into the side street of my apartments, blinking a few times. Wow, I'm here already? Fuck. I get out, lock my car and head back upstairs, sluggish and tired. Traveling, even only across town, exhausts me. Beyond points I can't even comprehend sometimes. I feel like I need a nap, but when I get inside my apartment, my phone starts to buzz in my pocket. I pull it out, seeing a number I don't know. I frown, answering it.

"Hey, Brad." I smile, my heart leaping a little in my chest. My baby.

"Cass, you called." He wants to come over to show me something. I'm more than happy that he wants to, and I agree. He hangs up, and I can almost hear the smile in his voice. He's coming back over.

Time's a blur; I manage to get a little cleaned up (no time for a shower or anything), and I've stripped the jacket, wearing only a dark red sweater with the sleeves pushed up to my elbows and my jeans when there's a knock at the door. My face heats up and I pull it open, seeing him standing there. He's smiling at me, before he leans forward, kissing me gently. I'm a little caught off guard, but it's nice, and my heart swells in my chest.

I bring him inside, closing the door. "So, what did you want to show me?" I ask him, and then I notice the sketch pad in his arms. He flips it open, his face alight in a grin. I look down, and my own smile drops into a look of awe. He's drawn some of the most beautiful sketches of clothing designs I've ever seen. Fantastic detail, brilliant colors. In some instances, he's drawn the same things but with different material patterns, colors, and poses. Each line is perfect, each fold looks so real.

There's lace and leather, vests, skinnies, skirts, dresses, bodices, ornate jewelry and boots. Misty shades of silver and gold, bold burnt reds and soothing deep blues. I find myself smiling as I flip through the sketches. For his age, it's amazing. There's a couple of things, I notice, that he could improve upon, but it's beautiful. Absolutely stunning, and I look back up at him, leaning forward and kissing his cheek.

"They're beautiful." I tell him, closing the pad and handing it back to him. He blushes, looking away and shuffling towards the couch.

"It's… kind of my dream to be a designer. I say 'kind of', because I want to be a successful musician and singer too…" He says, his face still flushed as I sit beside him. He looks so beautiful and innocent. I look down at his hands, seeing a strip of white poking out from under his left wrist band. It looks… It looks almost like it's gauze. I frown, before licking my lips and covering my concern. Does he—?

"That's quite the dream. And with talent like that? It won't be hard to achieve." He looks over at me, grinning ear to ear like a kid on Christmas. I smile at him, kissing his forehead gently, before kissing his lips. They're warm and soft, and I shiver when he moans. It's only been an hour or so since I left him this morning, but I realize just how much I've missed his lips. I've missed his smile, his eyes… I've missed him.

"Thanks." He whispers after we pull away, his face is red. I chuckle, reaching out and taking his hand in mine.

"Any time."


	4. Chapter Four

His hand is warm around mine and makes me wonder if he noticed the gauze. I can feel the burn of the blush on my face as he laughs. "So Cass how old are you exactly?" I freeze up at the unexpected question; I didn't think he was going to ever ask me about that.

"Fifteen." I answer him quietly.

It gets quiet after that statement; Brad seems lost in thought his eyes hard. "Sorry, I thought you were sixteen or my age, it doesn't' matter though."He kisses the top of my head softly causing me to flush more.

I glance at the clock; I don't want to linger here too long. I give Brad another light peck on the lips. "Cass did you hurt yourself?" His eyes linger on the white sticking underneath my leather wristband.

"I fell down the stairs at home." I lied, I fucking lied. He doesn't need to know about my dirty little secret.

"Just be more carful kay?" He says to me.

I feel a little guilty about lying to him but it's for the better. "Sure, I will." My voice echoes in the apartment, I wish he hadn't noticed my cuts. I grab my sketch pad from off the table. "I need to get going. My mother will have a fit if I'm not back she's real picky." I'm not too happy I have to leave, nor is Brad he frowns a little.

"I will see you again right?" He asks he likes me I can tell.

"Yeah later if I'm not busy." I say to him, he perks up a bit giving me a light kiss that makes me go weak at the knees a little, and he gets up his hand on mine leading me to the door.

I say a soft goodbye, and walk out and head down the street not looking back once as I walk home.

 

_ ** Thursday **_

My breathing is heavy half out of breath from running; I slump against the shower titles as I hear the others pass by, the names fagot, and queer distant. My shirt begins to cling onto me because water is hitting it from the spray of the shower; I strip off the black tee, throwing it over the curtain the only thing separating the showers. My black knee high shorts are the next thing to be thrown over the curtain hanging there, and I close my eyes under the spray of lukewarm water.

I'm debating whether to cut or not. I really want to, I've held off this whole week because Brad's in my gym class and it's really hard to make it look like an accident with him around. Not to mention I've been wondering what it would feel like if I cut myself while I was high. I fumble around in my jeans pocket searching for my blade. I grin when I find it and pull off the leather wrist band, scars still criss cross my wrist in a light pattern. Time to make it pretty again.

The blade feels good as it cuts against my skin, and I nearly let out a moan. It has felt so long, my eyes watch the blood rush to the surface pooling at the open skin creating crimson lines. I lose myself in the feeling slashing lines down my arms enough to nick blood but not enough to be fatal. So beautiful. I love the way the color clashes against my paler skin.

I don't hear the locker room door open as I watch the blood drip down my arm and onto the floor, it stains my arm crimson. It feels wonderful. I sit on the tilted floor watching the blood drip with morbid fascination, before it washes away with the water turning it a muddled light red. The marks are proof I'm alive, the proof I'm not normal. It makes me remember why they beat me up.

I dig the metal deeper into my skin, and I let out a cry on pain as it pieces making more blood spill out. My fingers are numb and they drop the metal, it feels so good. The crimson liquid drips out of my wrist with every throb it makes me feel more and more alive. I slump under the water drained, already sinking back into the numbness, of my depression. I want to cut more but I'll lose too much blood. I can't cut anymore or I'll lose too much blood. I drag myself off the titles, my wrist throbbing. It's the type of pain that's better than the drugs to me; it feels so much better than drugs. It's better than the Gold I got a week ago.

I hear a started gasp and look up, I already have my jeans back on and my eyes meet wide brown ones.

"H-Hey Brad." My voice is timid.

His eyes are fixed on my cuts, and I look away from him, my hand resting on the tiles, I'm out of breath slightly. I see him look away disgusted and he turns to walk away. "B-Brad I didn't mean to!" I yell, he doesn't look back, I know I hurt him. I get up running out my shirt in one hand, chasing after him.

"BRAD!" I scream. He doesn't look back. He keeps walking further ahead.

I run after him, but he keeps going further and further away. "Brad." I whisper half dead, I can feel tears stinging at my vision. I didn't mean to, I didn't think it would hurt him. I don't want him to hurt, I was reckless, I shouldn't have done that. Tears begin to slip off my cheeks, they roll down and I fall against the wall. My scars visible, I feel so hurt.

I feel so stupid. What have I done? What Have I done? My thoughts echo as I slump against the wall my heart aching. Why couldn't he let me explain? Why did he just leave me? I cry harder and it hurts more than anything it tears and at my heart and I lose myself in the pain, my head buried in my knees as I cry my heart out.

_ Just what have I done? _


	5. Chapter Five

I'm walking into the locker room, wiping my face off with the hem, of my shirt. Gym is brutal, but I kind of like it. I like the feeling of getting energized, adrenaline pumping through me. It's exhilarating and a little more than awesome. And despite the fact that I sweat like a fucking pig (of which I cannot stand), I like working out. It gets me moving and it makes me feel better.

I'm about to strip so I can take a shower. But something stops me. I look across the room, seeing Cassidy. I start to say his name when I see his arm. It's stained with red, lines running across his wrist and even further up. My heart stops in my throat and I gasp, blinking a few times. Cassidy looks up at me, his face going blank for a moment. Cassidy…

I turn and start to run. "Brad!!" He calls to me, but I ignore him. I… I don't know what to do, what to say or think. Part of me doesn't really want to think about it as I rush from the boy's locker room. But the sight of his blood, pooling from thin cuts in his arm… What frightens me is that he looked so pleased and happy. Like he was pleasured by the sight of… Oh, God. Cassidy…

I stop somewhere down the hall, leaning against the wall for a moment. I… I can't leave him because I'm afraid he's going to act recklessly and do it again. But I don't want to go back because I'm afraid I'm going to walk in and he's going to be doing it again. And I can't take that. I wouldn't know what to do with myself or with him. As it is, I'm trying to keep myself as calm as possible right now. And I'm so fucking glad that the hallway is empty. People are leaving. School's out for today.

I close my eyes, leaning my head against the wall. No. I can't go back in there. I can't face him right now. I need to calm down. I need to go home.

'Home. Yes. Home is where the good stuff is.' Yes. Home. Now. I start walking again, back towards the other side of the school. My locker's down there. I'll just grab my shit and take a shower when I get home. I don't need to use the shitty ones here to take care of that. Besides, I need to go. Before I just fucking hurt someone, anyone. Anyone who's still here. Fuck.

This shouldn't be bothering me. It really shouldn't, but it does, and I find myself breathing hard by the time that I get to my locker. I spin the dial three times, pulling it open and grabbing my stuff, throwing everything into my backpack. It's disorganized, but I don't care. I kick the door shut, throwing my bag over my shoulder again. I stomp back down the hall and out the doors, heading for the front of the school. I need to get away from here, before I run back to the locker and scream at him.

'Calm down, Cheeks. Calm down. You're fine. You're gonna go home, you're gonna relax and you're gonna feel so good you'll just… You won't care about this.' I tell myself, passing through the front doors of the building and jogging into the parking lot. The faster I leave the better I'll feel. I can feel it pulling at my vision and I slip into my car, slamming the door shut and starting the engine. I bite down on my bottom lip, squeezing my eyes shut. It's still pulling and I whimper my hands on the steering wheel as they pillow my forehead…

_"Dirty little sinner!!" The rosary beads clink in his hands, and he's holding a Bible above my head, bringing it down on my shoulders over and over, each blow harder and more painful than the last. I can feel bruises forming in my skin._

"Stop." I beg to myself, shaking my head back and forth, shaking all over. I hate this. I hate it when this happens. Chills sweep across my shoulders and I find it hard to breathe. I feel cold, my hair's standing on end.

_"You will burn in hell!" I'm curled into a ball, my hands over my ears. I'm only fourteen, and my father is yelling so loudly at me. My mother's in the kitchen, drinking a glass of wine and ignoring this. I'm her son!! She gave me life!! Why isn't she out here, helping me? Protecting me?_

I used to have these flashbacks all the time for a year and a half after I ran away from home. I'd wake up from nightmares with chills and sweat on my face. It hasn't happened for a while now, and suddenly this? Why was this coming about, after months of nothing? Months of silence and peace and happiness? Suddenly, I'm afraid again.

_"Let God save your soul. Let the disease bleed out of you." He says to me, digging the blade into my legs again, making x's up and down my thighs and my calves. I scream, tears running down my face. My skin is on fire. This is wrong. This isn't God's will. I know this. They force me to church every Sunday. We are made from God's vision. God wants me this way. He loves me this way, and they're telling me that he doesn't._

This is why I never wear shorts. I only ever wear pants, even in the most brutal heat. I don't want to show the world my childhood, because it's not a pretty sight. I inhale slowly, and it stops tugging at the edges of my vision. I blink, and instead seeing my father glaring down at me, I see the empty parking lot of the school. I turn my head, seeing Cassidy walking slowly from the building. He looks like a depressed lost puppy. Part of me wants to just let him go home on his own. But I know better. I can't let him.

I open the car door, leaving the engine running. He hears the noise and turns his head, looking over at me. He stops, looking down at the ground again. He's ashamed. I don't blame him. I rush over to him, shivering a little. I'm still in my sweaty gym shirt and my sweats, and the cold rush of air is starting to pick up. I wrap an arm around him and I guide him to my car, rubbing his back before letting him go again so he can hop into the passenger seat. I slide into the driver's side, shutting the door before putting the car into reverse, pulling out of the parking spot.

We don't talk. He's lost in his own world and I'm still trying to calm myself down. I feel jittery, my hands are still shaking and I try to keep them as still as possible on the steering wheel. I don't want to explain that to him. At least not right now. As it is I can kind of tell that he doesn't want to talk about his… His own issues right now.

'Are you so scarred from something that happened three years ago that you can't even say what he was doing? Or are you just that much of a pansy?' I bite down on my bottom lip a little, driving down the semi-busy city streets towards my apartment. I glance over at him. He's staring out the window, his backpack on his lap. He's got a jacket on his frame, the sleeves pulled down. At least he's not flashing them around for the world to see. I shiver, turning my attention back to the road in front of me.

It's not that I'm scarred. Nor am I a pansy. I just… When I saw those lines… The blood, I choked. I choked and I tried not to lash out at him. I suffered that pain, and he's willingly doing it to himself? And he likes it? No. I will talk to him about it. I just… I don't want to do it right now when I could get distracted and veer us into a fatal crash that could potentially kill us both.

'No, you just don't know what to say, yet. So you're waiting.' Maybe that's the case. I don't know.

This is not how I intended to spend my Thursday afternoon. A silent, awkward car ride back to my apartment with the cute little innocent boy I'd picked up at the club almost a week ago? Not exactly ideal. So why am I here? Why am I so determined to take him back home, sit his gay ass down and tell him how I feel about his issues?

Because I'm a big, fat, gay softie. That's why.

'And, you know, you like him.'

Maybe.

God, I need a hit.

I pull up beside the apartments again. The sensor not only picks up the motion, but the guy sitting in the little window by the gate sees me, recognizes my car, and opens the gate up for me. I wave to him, pulling into the side street and parking in my normal spot. I kill the engine, climbing out as Cassidy does. We walk (in silence, still) to the doors, and I hold it open for him. He nods once, stepping inside and I follow him, climbing the stairs to the third floor. Cassidy's right behind me, keeping to himself, his backpack over his shoulder. I'm holding onto the straps of mine. I don't feel like having it over my shoulder right now.

Third floor, we get to my apartment, and I unlock the door, motioning for him to go in first. He does and I follow, closing the door behind me before tossing my bag onto the couch. He does the same, exhaling heavily. He starts to turn away, and I grab his left arm, the one he'd been… He turns back to me, and I pull him closer, cupping his face in one hand, still holding him in the other. And I kiss him. I kiss him hard, and I relish in the soft moan that comes from within his chest. We pull away when breath becomes vital, and my thumb traces circles into his cheek, my fingers curling around his thin arm.

"It has to stop." I tell him, and he knows exactly what I mean. His issue. It can't keep happening. I… "I can't… I can't stand to see you do that to yourself. Please, baby, you have to stop." He whimpers, nodding once, before standing on his toes and kissing me again. It's heated, apologetic, and very, very sincere.

"I'm sorry…" He whispers against my lips after a moment. "I'm so sorry." I let go of his arm, bring my other hand up to cup his face. I press my lips to his so tenderly that it almost feels chaste and delicate. Tears roll into my hands and I feel myself choking again. He's crying. Cassidy…

"Just please… Don't… don't leave me." He begs, staring up at me, his brown eyes fearful and pleading. My heart lurches in my chest and I swallow the lump that's sitting in the back of my throat, throbbing and angry. I could never— I pull him into my arms, holding him tightly as he squeezes my waist, burying his face into my neck.

"I won't."


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware- SMUT!

I feel so fragile, my face is buried in Brad's neck, and I know I'm crying. Brad's arms are tight around me and it hurts to breathe, I'm just so scared that I was going to lose him. "Brad." I whisper my voice heavy with emotion. He looks me in the eyes worried. "You have to promise me, if I don't cut you won't get high." I say to him, my voice heavy.

Brad's eyes are lost in thought for a second before he speaks. "I won't as long as you don't cut ever again."

I nod, brushing my lips against his in a light kiss. It's raw, it contains an emotion that scares me, but I want to accept with Brad. I've fallen for him; I've fallen in love with him. A moan comes from my mouth softly, his mouth sucking on my lower lip, my arms wrap around his neck pulling him closer. The contact feels safe, safer than anything.

His lips pull back from my own, trailing against my skin planting feather light kisses on my jaw. It feels so warm the contact, the simple touches. I can tell her cares by the light feeling of them, the gentleness of them, it almost as if he wants to… "Cassidy will you let me?" Brad whispers against my skin, I flush. He is asking for what I thought.

"Yes." I whisper my reply soft.

He takes me by the hand, and I don't know how I manage it but I'm walking backwards kissing him, his hands around my neck as I stumble backwards onto the bed, and Brad falls onto me. His lips are soft against my skin, warm passionate. His teeth nipping down my skin causes shivers to rank though my body, the light bites are followed by warm kisses. It feels so good.

He leans over me kissing my neck, my body arching on its own. "Have you done this before Cass?" He asked me his voice soothing.

"No, it's my first time." I say to him my voice falling into a moan as he sucks hard on my neck creating a red mark.

"Do you trust me?" Brad says softly.

I nod, and he kisses me hard and my hands wind behind his neck, as his tongue slips into my mouth, his lips biting and sucking on mine, before moving his lips away from mine which causes me to whine and him to grin at me. His fingers are quick to undo the buttons on my jacket striping it off me with a quick movement, and I bite my lip. "Baby, where did you…?"Brad's voice is pained, and it sounds a bit angry.

I know there are bruises littering my frame; they're all from physical violence. "Don't look at the bruises, it makes me look filthy." I whisper.

Brad's fingers trail over the purple fading bruise on my ribs and he swallows then leans down to kiss the bruise. "Don't ever say that. You're not." He points to the scars on my left wrist. "Theses scars are a part of who you are. What you're struggling with." Then there's light touches to my body again, gentle kisses, they make me feel loved. It makes me feel more whole than I have in awhile. "You're beautiful Cassidy." He says as his tongue flicks against my nipple and I cry out, moaning, my hands clinging onto his shoulders.

He moves up to kiss me again; it's raw full of passion and meaning. He cares a lot. A lot about me, my heart pounds. "You're beautiful don't let anyone tell you otherwise."He kisses me again, and it's so heartwarming, the kiss lingers I can feel Brad loves me as much as I love him even if we met only a week ago. This is right, we were meant for one another.

"Please Brad." I whisper, and he smiles at me before giving me a peck on my lips. He pulls his shirt over his head, and I watch as he strips transfixed and he grins at me, but as he unbuttons his jeans there's a flicker in his eyes that's unreadable. Almost like he's pained but then he pulls off his jeans and he's left in his boxers and my jeans and boxers follow. He leans down and kisses me briefly before his fingers brush the inside of my thighs. I squirm a little, and Brad smirks like a child that just has gotten into trouble, he reaches over and grabs something- Oh Lube. He smothers his fingers in it, and then rubs against my asshole and I arch, my fingers tangling in the sheets. "Brad!" I hiss.

"What?" He looks up innocently. Too damn innocently.

"Just fucking do it!"I hiss at him.

"Such a mouth for someone so pretty looking." Brad says with a grin rubbing his finger against the hole which causes me to moan loudly. His finger slips into me and the sensation causes me to arch, pressing against him bucking. He curls the finger, and it causes me to moan louder at the feeling of it, and my fingers grip at his shoulders digging into them, as another finger joins the first and I moan louder as he begins to scissor me my head thrown back in a cry that makes Brad's eyes flush over in need and makes me get more aroused than I already am.

"B-Brad Nrgh.." My voice falls into another moan, and when Brad pulls his finger out of me I whine, I fucking whine. Then I realize what he's doing, he's putting a condom on and slicking himself up. I flush, a little red face, his smirk directed right at me and it makes me squirm a little.

"Like what you see?" Brad asks with a shit eating smirk.

"S-Shut up." I stutter as he holds onto my hips, his hands feeling good against my skin.

"You ready?" He asks his voice completely caring.

My answer is a nod, and Brad slowly slips in and fuck it hurts. I feel tears sting at my eyes, it hurts a lot more than expected. Brad clasps his hand with my own and holds onto me. "It's alright Cass. It's alright."The pain still is there, but the pit of fire in my chest grows, as he stops moving to let me adjust to the feeling.

"Move." I whisper gripping his hand tighter in my own. Brad complies thrusting in and out, and it makes me throw my head back in a wail. It feels so amazing. It feels wonderful. Brad keeps pounding into me and then he. Fuck, oh fuck. I can't even tell what I'm saying because I'm in so much pleasure, I can't tell if it's a swear or moan. Somewhere along the line, Brad's hand starts to jerk me off that makes my cries louder. My breathing is heavy.

"Brad..Ah…Fuck.. I'm gonna"-

The sheer look of want on his face makes my body convulse. It feels so good. So good. White light clouds my vision as Brad bites down hard on my neck, my cries echoing in the air, his cries joining mine. Everything feels so good, I arch panting and Brad pulls out throwing the condom out before collapsing beside me. I turn to face him burying my head on his chest, but I notice faint X's on the inside of his thighs, what where those from? The thought doesn't linger however because I feel drained, and I'm warm and happy.

I close my eyes and drift my hand clasped with Brad's as darkness envelopes us.

_ ** Friday **_

When I wake, I'm warm. I blink, Brad's still asleep his arms around me as if he's clinging. I can hear his soft breathing, and he looks like he's content. My thoughts go back to the X's I saw on his legs, just what was hiding? Brad shifts his brown eyes blinking, and looks at me. "Morning." He says, his voice is quiet just barely awake.

"Hey." I say pecking him softly on the lips, before he lets me get up.

"So Cassidy you won't do it right?" He says watching my thin frame as I get up and then Brad adds. "Do you eat much at home?"

I cringe, I don't eat all that much. I hardly eat only when I really get hungry. "I'm fine Brad. Don't worry about my eating habits worry about your own." I retort. I know what drugs do even though I only tried it once, I prefer my cutting. It's going to be hard on me I can feel it will be already.

He gives me a look like shut up it isn't my fault before he glances at me. "I think I'm going to need rehab." His voice is low and quiet almost scared sounding.

I walk back over to him pulling him into my arms. "Are you sure you're going to need it?" I ask him.

"Cassidy, you need it as much as I do. You like the sight of your own blood." He says to me his voice soft.

"Do you know any places?" I ask him my voice wants to fail me.

"Yeah, I know a few." He answers.

"If I go, will you go with me for your addiction?" I ask him, my voice soft caring.

Brad grabs for my hand lacing our fingers. "I want us to be happy. I want this to work."

I smile at him, that's exactly what I wanted to hear and I plant a soft kiss on his lips. "I love you too." I whisper to him, and from the corner of my eyes I see Brad begin to cry. I've never seen him break down and I get the feeling he doesn't do it often. I pull him into my arms and whisper over and over it will be alright. I whisper to him while he clings onto me sobbing, shaking.

"C-Cassidy thank you. I love you to." His voice is a little choked as he says it and I hold him tighter hoping rehab will change our lives for the best.


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

"Welcome." A man with brown hair and brown eyes says as we walk through the front doors. He's dressed in a white lab coat, his name stitched into the fabric of a pocket; he's holding a clipboard against his chest, a pearly white smile on his face. He looks a little too happy to see us, though. I'm clenching Cassidy's hand as tightly as I can, breathing as slow as possible. The hunger is burning in my system and making me edgy, making me want to turn around and go home for a hit. But I can feel my baby's pulse through his hand, and I remember that I'm doing this for him. He's the reason I'm here, and I'm the reason he's here with me. He wants to get over his cutting issues. I want to get over my drug addictions.

I glance at the stitching as Cassidy and I walk forward a little more into the lobby. It's a clean, white and light blue area with dark hard wood floors and baby blue walls. The couches are white, plush, and there's a desk by the opposite wall of the doors. Large windows all around, and on either side of the desk are doors leading off elsewhere of the building. It's bright and a little dreary, with all of the blue, but I don't really think about it. My eyes follow the stitching of the letters, before I look back up into the man's eyes. LaBry.

"I assume you are Brad Bell and Cassidy Haley, yes?" Mr. LaBry says, his voice soft. Cassidy and I nod, and I squeeze his hand gently. LaBry's eyes sweep down briefly, seeing our clasped hands, and he smiles a Cheshire cat kind of smile, before letting it slip into a graceful curl of lip. "My name is Drake, I was informed of your call this morning, and I'm glad you two could make it so soon. We have your room prepared. If you'll just follow me," he says, motioning for us to follow him through the door to the left of the desk against the wall. I glance at Cass and he nods. We walk side by side, following the brunette through the door and down a long, wide hallway. There are doors on one side, windows on the other to allow light. I'm assuming these doors belong to patients. The floors are the same dark wood, the walls the same blue.

I hold onto my baby's hand as we pass through a door at the end of the hall, standing in a circle shaped nook that had three other archways; halls that branch off away. The first archway leads to what looks like a screened off sitting area. The archway to the right leads towards a hallway, at the end an opening to what looks like a cafeteria. The arch to the right is where Drake takes us, down to room 23A. He unlocks it with a set of keys that are attached to his belt, and he opens the door for us. Cassidy and I take a step inside, glancing around. There are two beds at the end of the room, a dresser on the wall with the "front" door, two doors tucked into a corner. One is opened, leading to a bathroom, the other, I assume, is a closet. The walls are painted an off-white kind of color, the floors are the same hard wood from the lobby.

"Dinner will be at six, and there will be guides in the hallway in case you get lost. Tomorrow you will meet with your doctors, and you'll go over the best methods for treatment. Until then, try to rest up. If you need anything, there's a small button on the wall between the two beds. Just push it and someone will be on their way." He says with that cheeky grin still on his face as he leaves us, closing the door behind him. I don't know how I'm going to manage to get through dinner and sleeping with my hands beginning to shake, but I'm hoping that, with Cass being here, I'll be okay.

But there is something about Drake that makes me edgy. It's almost as if he's a little too happy to have us here, to be treated. I don't like it. And judging by the look on Cassidy's face as Drake leaves, he doesn't really like him either. He squeezes my hand again, before pulling me towards one of the beds. There's two, but they're both big enough for the both of us. He kicks off his shoes and flops down, and I follow in pursuit, wrapping my arms around him. He snuggles up, tucking his head under my chin, breathing into my neck.

We lay in silence for a long while; there's a clock on the wall that reads it's just a quarter after five PM. We've still got a little while before dinner. But there's not much to do. There's no TV, nothing to read. Maybe we can ask Drake (or, preferably, someone else) about those things later, before or after dinner, perhaps. I sigh softly, tightening my arms around Cass. I try not to shake, the need is pulling at my rationality. But holding my beautiful boy reminds me why I'm here. I'm here to get better. As is he.

"Brad?" Cassidy's voice is soft, barely above a whisper. I inhale slowly.

"Yes, baby?"

"Why are you shaking?" I don't speak for a moment, and I sigh, running my fingers through his hair, breathing in his scent. "It's the drugs, isn't it?" He asks after a moment, and I bite down on my bottom lip.

"Yeah." I'm anxious, but for nothing. My head pounds a little and I feel incredibly tired, but I know that if I fall asleep now, I won't be waking up for a while. Which makes me realize that part of my treatment is probably going to be a lot of sleeping. Cassidy leans up and kisses the underside of my jaw softly, trying to comfort me. I smile, looking down at him, pressing my mouth to his.

"I'll be fine." I say against his lips. "That's why we're here." He nods once, kissing me again, his tongue sliding along my bottom lip. I open my mouth just enough, and I shiver when he slips inside my mouth. He tastes so sweet. So… Young and beautiful. I pull away. My turn. I leave butterfly kisses and bites along his neck, and he moans softly, tilting his head back, winding his fingers into my hair. My lips ravage his skin before connecting with his again, my tongue slipping between his teeth. He moans again, pulling on my hair and rocking his hips up into mine.

I pull away from him slowly, pecking him once. "I love you." I tell him, and he smiles warmly at me. His eyes are so beautiful, it makes my heart do flips and twists. He brings me down into another kiss, chaste and innocent, and he whispers against my mouth.

"I love you too."

Dinner comes and goes in a flash, and Cassidy and I are too tired to continue much of our romance. We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow, and many more to come, I know. I wrap him into my arms to sleep, his head tucked under my chin. I don't remember dreaming, but I do remember closing my eyes for what feels like five seconds before opening them again. Cassidy's still tucked into my arms, and I groan softly, not wanting to get up just yet. I haven't had enough sl—

There's a knock at the door and Cassidy stirs, a voice on the other side a little too happy. Oh. Guess who. "Rise and shine, you two." Drake. Is he always this happy? I sigh softly, looking down at my baby as he smiles at me. I kiss him gently, before letting go of him so he can wriggle out and get dressed. I watch as he strips out of yesterday's clothes and crosses to the dresser that's tucked away, and he pulls it open, revealing fresh clothes that are, miraculously, our size. It's nothing fancy or anything. In fact, they remind me of pajamas. The pants are baggy and the shirts are simple vee-neck white. Cass tosses me a set before pulling on his own set.

"Mkay, then." I say aloud, pulling off my shirt and my jeans slipping into the white attire as quickly as I can. I don't want Cass to see the scars on my legs… But it's comfortable, I'll give it that. It's just… I don't know. It's weird. Like we're in some kind of a hospital. Yeah, it's a rehabilitation center that has you stay while you're treated, but it's not a hospital. At least, it shouldn't be.

There is another knock at the door, and I cross, pulling it open. Drake's outfit hasn't changed really from yesterday, and he's still got that cheeky grin. "Alright Brad, I'll be taking you down to my office today. Cassidy, someone's going to come by to take you for your session today in a few minutes, alright? If you'll follow me, Brad…" Drake says, already moving down the hall. I turn, giving Cassidy a quick kiss, and he whispers a soft 'good luck' into my ear, squeezing my arm before letting me go. My heart is pounding in my chest as I follow the slightly taller male down the hall.

I get lost almost instantly, and I feel as if I'm dizzy as we reach Drake's office. It's a simple room, with the same hard wood floors. There's a long couch that is tucked beneath a window, a desk in front of the adjoining wall. Bookshelves, and a small set of counters with cabinets below and above, a sink in the middle. The room is light and airy, but there's something about it that still gives me chills. I don't know though. "Have a seat there on the couch." Drake tells me as he closes the door after I step inside. I do as I'm told, and I sit down, my hands shaking slightly. He takes the chair that's behind the desk and brings it around, sitting down on it a few feet away from me and crossing his legs. There's a clip board on his lap and he's holding a pen, that cheek smile only half as irritating now.

"Now, I need you to answer a few questions for me before we begin you're treatment." He says, writing something at the top of the page before he looks back up at me again. His brown eyes seem to be seeing not just me, but inside of me. I feel violated, and not in a good way.

"Okay," I say softly after licking my lips. Drake smiles… a little creepily.

"First off, how old are you, Brad?" I frown, and he chuckles. "Precautions. If we need to give you medications, I want to give you the appropriate dose based on your age." He says, and I nod.

"I'm seventeen." There's something in his eyes that flickers, like wonder and almost shock. It vanishes. He writes my age down.

"Why have you come seeking treatment?" His voice sounds more like prying, but I try to ignore it. I need to stop having freaky assumptions about people I don't know.

"Drugs. And for Cass." Now it's Drake's turn to frown.

"Drugs?" He asks.

"Yeah. Meth and heroin. Cass made me promise to give them up if he was gonna stop cutting." My tongue slips and I don't mean to say all of that, but it's unavoidable at this point, and I make sure to keep my mouth shut as Drake jots down the notes quickly.

"Any particular reason you go into drugs?" He asks, and I stare at the floor. Yeah… There's a reason. A big one… And it's pulling at me again. I bite down on my bottom lip, willing it away. No. Not now. Not now!!

"Brad?" Drake's voice pushes the pulls away, and I look up.

"Sorry." I whisper. His eyes are concerned and intrigued.

"What was up?" He asks.

"Relapsing. My father used to abuse me… Saying that I was some devil spawn." My voice is soft, and Drake nods twice; he seems to understand completely. He stands up from the chair and tucks it back behind the desk, setting the clip board down. He doesn't turn towards me as he speaks.

"How did he?" He asks. I'm too lost to be confused at his need to know. I just answer, feeling the memories pulling at me again.

"The Bible. He used to hit me with it all the time… He cut my legs… He slapped me…"

"And you remember those days, don't you? I take it your mother didn't help you, did she?" Drake says, his voice high, delighted? No…

"That's right…" My voices fades to my own ears, and my eyes are half open, but I'm not seeing the office…

_ Over and over again, the leather edge hits my chest. I reach out to her, my mother. I reach out to her to help me. I need her. And she's sitting in her chair, drinking a glass of wine. She's not even looking at me. Her son. Her baby. She used to love me so dearly. Now she acts as if I don't exist…_

"Dirty, vile creature from Hell!!" He drops the Bible on my throat, and I cough, rolling over onto my side and curling into a ball. I'm only twelve…

"Brad, stop whining." My mother hisses at me behind her glass.

"Brad." I blink several times, looking up at Drake. He's not smiling, but his eyes betray him. "I'm going to give you an anesthetic that will help you sleep. Take it before you go to bed every night. When you wake up, I want you to take one of these." He holds up an orange bottle of pills. I reach out, taking the pills from him.

"It'll help curve the cravings you're probably suffering right now," I nod once. "You might suffer slight hallucinations, but it's different depending on the person." I swallow the lump in my throat, sweat gathering in my hair line. I'm still trying to shake the memory. I hate it. He hands me the anesthetic as well, before smiling again.

"I'll see you again tomorrow. We'll talk more about your past, if that's okay. I'm wondering if you're dealing with psychological trauma. If so, I can help you with that." He says, and I simply nod again. His smile is weirding me out. I need to get out of this office.

"Thanks." I say, heading for the door.

"Would you like me to escort you back?" He asks. I shake my head.

"No, I can find it." I tell him, opening the door and slipping out, slamming it shut behind me and tearing down the hall, my heart pounding in my chest.


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

I watch Brad leave with a nagging sense something isn't right about Drake, but before I can think about it a sweet voice speaks. "Cassidy Haley?" It's a female voice, a soft one. The door enters and a young woman enters about the age of twenty-five and her hair a blonde color and her eyes are a light brown color. I see the nametag of Panagaris, and I frown trying to read it. "Orianthi." She says softly to me. "You mind following me?" I get up, following her down the hall into a small room, she shuts the door.

It's like a doctor cubical, but it doesn't bother me. I feel safer here than in some places I've been. "So you're Cassidy Haley?" She says her voice light, soft.

"Yeah." I answer quietly, staring at the scars overlapping on my left wrist, the self inflictions.

"You mind if we start off on the basics like height weight, and age." She runs a hand though her hair smiling and I nod.

"Sure." I answer quietly. "I'm fifteen, five ten and a hundred pounds." She writes it down her eyes watching me.

"Would you like to tell me why you're here?" Orianthi says softly.

"Self infliction, Cutting." I say my voice real quiet.

"Ah. I take it was because of physical or mental violence?' She says to me, she seems to know a lot on it.

"Yeah. I've been doing it since I was eleven. It's a habit that's been hard to break because I've been doing it for years." I answer softly.

Orianthi nods at me listening. "What we can do is give you a type of pills that makes you have a better grip on your emotions and reality so you're not so emotional, so you won't cut."She says to me and I nod. "You'll be given your first treatment tomorrow. I'll get you tomorrow alright?"I nod and she lets me go and I leave.

I walk down the hall to our room, and turn open the door and what I find makes me swallow hard. Brad's inside the room shaking, trembling and he's pale his eyes wide. He looks distraught, afraid almost, it makes me tremble. "Brad?" I whisper my voice barely audible as I shut the door. I go to stand beside him, and place my fingers to his cheek.

He flinches back, his voice a whisper almost sounding haunted "Mother, why are you letting him hurt me?" Brad says.  
"Brad. It's me Cassidy." I say to him brushing my fingers against his skin, and his fingers shove at my skin and push me away, his nails digging though my shirt slicing my skin creating small marks. I don't get the chance to touch him again as his palm smacks into my cheek and I stumble back a stinging pain on my face. How could he hit me? I retreat to my bed throwing my face on my pillow, my hands shaking, and let a sob rank my lips. I can feel tears drip down my face. Why is Brad doing this? I thought he loved me. I let a cry leave my lips and Brad crouches beside me. "C-Cassidy?" He whispers softly. _ Oh god. Oh god._ His fingertips touch my cheeks feeling the tears.

"Cassidy what is it?" He whispers to me as if he never hit me.

I want to die, it hurts so much. How could he do this to me? Is this a sick joke? I move over on the bed and let his arms slip around me as I cry; I don't want to tell him. I don't want to tell him that he just hit me. He hit me like I was worthless. I let out another sob clinging onto him crying. I wish I had my razor; I want to cut so badly right now. I want to see my blood drip down my arm.

I can hardly breathe as I slip under into the numbing bliss that is the darkness of slip and I don't hear Brad's panicked whisper of what have I done? In my ear as I fall into the comforting darkness of my haunting dreams.

_ I want to scream but I can't his hand covers my mouth. I'm crying, screaming in hold. I want to die. This isn't right. It isn't supposed to be this way. He's not supposed to hit me. Abuse me. There are marks all over my delicate skin, there like scars but worse. My eyes hold nothing but fear as I scream. He laughs at my pain as I scream and I want to die. Why isn't anyone saving me? No matter how much I scream no one seems to hear me and I'm scared. I'm so scared. He bits down on my neck hard enough to draw blood. I gave him my virginity and now this. I can't run and my voice is hoarse is dead from screaming. _

Is this a dream? It feels too real. I thrash against him screaming. He holds me tighter. This isn't the person I fell for. He's a monster, it's scarring me. "Someone help me!" I scream. Across the room I see the door open, and I see Drake's mouth in a knowing grin as he watches me be raped. Isn't he supposed to help us? I scream it again and his grin increases and I scream louder truly frightened…

My eyes open and there wide with fear and my breathing is heavy when I awake. It's sometime during the night, Brad's asleep and my voice is stuck in my throat, sweat drips off my skin and I'm trembling like a motherfucker, that wasn't a dream. That was a nightmare. I stare at Brad's sleeping figure, it had felt too real. _ ** Far too real.**_ I don't speak, my voice is lost as I lay against the pillows and try to forget the haunting nightmare I've experienced but can't and by the time the sun rises the next morning, I'm afraid and exhausted from the night before and can't help but wonder what's going to happen.


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

I only remember having another flashback, and then waking up to see my beautiful Cass in tears on his bed. His face is buried into his pillow. I frown, asking him what's wrong, but he's crying so hard and he's acting like he doesn't want me to touch him. Eventually, though, he lets me slip onto the bed beside him, and I wrap my arms around him tightly, trying to think of what might've caused his tears. I look down at him, frowning and brushing away his tears. His cheek is red, like he's been hit. My heart beats a little harder, working more to get the blood pumping through me.

"Cass…" I whisper his name, but his eyes are closed and his tears are flowing less. He's falling asleep, and fuck he looks so beautiful. But that doesn't stop me from continuing to talk to myself. "What have I done?" It's just above a whisper. My heart is thrashing in my chest at the memory and then this. I sigh softly, pressing my lips to his forehead before unwinding my arms and getting off the bed.

Drake told me to take the anesthetic. Part of me is hoping that it'll allow me dreamless sleep. The last thing I need is to wake up to Cassidy's concerned voice. He doesn't need to know… I sigh softly, standing straight and heading into the bathroom. I'd managed to put them away before relapsing again. This was beginning to fucking suck. It's happened twice in one day. That barely ever happens. I usually only get one every few weeks or so. Recently I haven't been getting any. But suddenly… When I saw Cass… hurting himself… And then in Drake's office.

Maybe I'm just tired, but, earlier, it sounded as if he was _ happy _ that I had an abusive life. That he was _ delighted _ with the idea that my father marked me over and over and made me suffer. What a fucking creep. But maybe I'm just fretting over nothing at all. I don't know, though. It's still strange. And no matter how much I might have to get to know Drake, I know that I'll never be completely at ease around him. Never. He's just too fucking creepy.

I sigh softly, opening the mirror cabinet and pulling out the anesthetic. Small little tablets. I pop one out and dry swallow it, twisting the cap back on and setting it back into the cabinet. There's nothing but the anesthetic, the orange pills and toothpaste. Pretty basic, if you ask me. But at least it's empty. How weird would that've been if other people's medications and shit were in here too?

I shuffle back into the main room, flicking the light switch and rolling back into the bed beside Cassidy. A breath passes between my lips and I lean over, kissing his forehead in the darkness again. He shifts a little beside me but otherwise remains asleep. I stare at his outline in the dark, smiling softly to myself. Despite his crying and still being confused as all fuck about what had happened (since he didn't tell me), he's still beautiful. And I'm still amazed at how lucky I am to have him. I close my eyes, nestling close beside Cassidy before the anesthetic begins to kick in, and it takes me into a world of dark.

_ Well, at least it's dark to begin with. It's warm and kind of stick; muggy. Like Florida, you know? Wait… I've never been to Florida. How would I know that? It doesn't matter though. The darkness eventually lifts away and I blink, adjusting the light that swarms around me. I'm back in my old house. I'm standing in the living room, watching as my father digs his small Bowie knife into the legs of myself as a child, creating the ex's that now scar my thighs and calves. I inhale sharply, pressing my back into the door as I watch myself screaming in pain. Eyes squeezed shut and my father's got a look of pure rage on his face. I don't see my mother anywhere, and I remember that she wasn't home for this. She was at work._

"Let the disease bleed out of you." My father hisses, but I notice he's not looking at the child reflection. He's looking at me, with my back pressed to the wall. He stands up, leaving my child-self on the floor to bleed as he crosses. Even though I'm seventeen and I've grown, he still towers over me by a good, solid six or so inches. I stare up at him, my breathing light as he digs the blade into my shoulder. I squeeze my eyes shut, groaning in the back of my throat and trying to hold back the scream. It fucking hurts…

"Let it bleed out, Brad… You dirty, fucking sinner…" I open my eyes, gasping as he pulls the knife out from my arm and sheathes it into my thigh again. I scream as his hand lashes up and holds me by the throat. I choke, seeing him before a shadow appears behind my father, taking the shape of someone I barely know but already I know I fear… He's grinning like a motherfucker and I scream again…

"Brad?" I open my eyes, inhaling slowly as I look over at Cassidy. His eyes are wide, tired and concerned. I exhale quickly, feeling my heart beating fierce in my chest, blood rushing through my ears. I close my eyes again, biting down on my bottom lip for a brief moment before opening my eyes again.

"Bad dream?" He asks, and I nod. He hums in understanding. But the way his tone wraps around the words tells me that he's in the same boat I am. But we don't press each other about the situation. I sit up slowly, exhausted. Sure, I was in a bit of a deep sleep, but it wasn't exactly the best. The bed shifts and Cassidy sits up, too, looking even worse than I feel. I frown at him, reaching up and running my fingers through his hair. He flinches, and I stop.

"Why'd you flinch?" I ask, and his face pales a little.

"I don't know…" He tells me softly. I frown, but I don't pester him about it. I lean forward, and I kiss his cheek gently. He stays still for a moment, eventually turning and pressing his mouth to mine. I moan gently, pecking his lips several times before I slide off of the bed. There's soft light coming from the window of our room, as well as under the crack of the front door. I assume it's about… early morning, between seven and nine AM. But I don't know for certain. I cross to the bathroom, shutting the door and opening the medicine cabinet again. I pull out the bottle of orange pills, staring at it for a moment.

Something in me says not to do this, but I know that I have to. Curb the cravings. I'm tired… Fuck. I untwist the cap, dropping a pill into the palm of my hand before twisting it back and tucking it away. I stare at the pill, before dry swallowing it as I had done the anesthetic. It's got a grainy kind of texture, but I ignore it as best I can. I use the bathroom, washing my hands and opening the door again. Cassidy is still sitting on the bed, looking like he wants to pass out again. I smile at him.

"Baby, you okay?" I ask. He looks over at me and smiles slightly, nodding once. But I can tell he's tired. We both are. "Why don't you go back to sleep?" I suggest. But then again, I don't know when his treatment starts today, whether it's after I leave or after lunch. He blinks a few times before falling back into the pillows, sighing. I shuffle, sitting down beside him and running my fingers through his hair again. He doesn't flinch this time.

"Go to sleep, baby. You're exhausted." I tell him, smiling slightly. He nods again, and I lean down, kissing him gently. He moans against my lips, and the knock at the door makes me irritated at the person behind it. Even more so when they speak.

"Brad, it's time for your appointment," Drake says. I have half a mind to tell him to fuck off, but I know that wouldn't be the best. I kiss Cassidy one more time before standing up straight and shuffling towards the door. I grab the knob and I turn it slowly. Drake is as cheeky and smiley as ever, and that only makes me even more irritated. "Let's go, shall we?" I glance back at Cassidy. His eyes are closed; he looks like he's sleeping. I wish I could sleep.

I follow Drake down the same twisting, irritating and confusing path that leads to his office. Seriously, how the fuck does he manage to find anything in the goddamned building? But the walk isn't as long as it was yesterday, and the next thing I realize is that he's closing the door and I'm already crossing to the couch. I sit down as he grabs his clipboard off of his desk, sitting in a chair across from me.

"Okay. So, in order to help you with the drug addictions, I'm going to need to ask you more about your past. Because we can't have you relapsing and needed to get a hit after we release you." Drake explains, but for some reason I don't believe him. I don't believe that's the reason he wants to know, but I decide to tell the voice in the back of my head to shut the fuck up for five minutes because I want to get better. And if this is the only way, so be it.

"What do you need to know?" I ask, and he smiles that kind of smile that says 'I appreciate your cooperation'.

"First off, how long was your father abusing you?" I swallow the lump in my throat, lacing my fingers together and staring hard at the floor of his office. Nothing to it. Hard wood. Just like everywhere else in this place.

"Four years. From when I was ten until I was fourteen." He writes it down on his board.

"Did it just stop or did you get help?" I never got help, that's the thing.

"I ran away from home. They probably don't even care if I'm alive, let alone do they know at this point." I glance up at Drake as the corner of his mouth twitches. He nods once, writing more on his board. I sigh softly, looking away again and staring across the room. I don't want to be here, but there's really no sense in skipping out. I made a promise to Cassidy, and I plan to keep to that promise. Even if Drake's a fucking creeper.

"I trust you took your medicines, yes?" Drake asks, and I nod, not looking at him. He gives me chills, and not in the good way. I sigh softly, looking back down at the floor. Part of me is worried about Cassidy. He was so upset last night, and he was so tired when I left him this morning. I hope that I didn't do anything to him… Did I?

"Have you had any water this morning?" I shake my head, and out of the corner of my eye it seems as if he's fighting a smile.

Drake stands up from his chair and sets his clipboard down on the desk again. "Brad, your recovery is going to require some pretty… intense and perhaps painful treatment steps." He says with his back to me as he crosses around and behind his desk. He reaches and opens a small door, pulling out two bottles of water. I frown at him. Intense? Painful? What?!

"Here," he says, holding out a water to me. I look up at him, and I shake my head. He smiles. "Trust me, you're going to want it before this." He says, his voice soft.

'Don't trust him.' I tell myself, but my body reacts differently. I reach up and I take the bottle from his hands, uncapping it and taking a long drink. The water rushes down my throat and it feels nice. At first.

My head begins to pound and breathing becomes hard. It's pulling at me again. What? What is this? The edges of my vision are going in and out of focus, fuzzy and dark at first before clearing, only to repeat the cycle again. Drake smiles down at me, and it stops pulling for a moment. He's holding something in his hands… A book? He rears back and I feel the spine slam into the back of my shoulder. I fly forward, slamming into the ground on my stomach. I roll over, wide eyed as it pulls more. He's got the second bottle uncapped, and he's standing above me, pouring it down and splashing it on my face.

_"Get up, you dirty sinner." My father's voice is cold, as usual. There's a fuzzy quality to it though, and when I turn my head and look at him, he's swaying just a little bit. Oh, great. He's drunk, too._

"I said, get up!" He shouts, kicking my side and rolling me over onto my back. He kneels down beside me, pressing his knee into my stomach. "Heavenly Father above us, please purge the sins and devils of this boy—" he says this before his hand collides across my face, making my skin burn and whimpers falling off of my tongue. It hurts.

"—save his soul from eternal damnation and forever guide him to the lighted path." He grabs me by my shirt and hauls me to my feet, dragging me into the kitchen as he continues his ridiculous prayers. I claw at his hands, crying out and begging for my mother to come help me. But she's in her room, upstairs. She doesn't care. Tears run down my face as my father fills the kitchen sink with water; hot.

"Cleanse his soul, Lord—" I'm just the right height that he grabs the back of my head and shoves me under, the temperature heating my skin and making me scream into the water. Not that it helps…

I gasp, choking as my eyes open again. Sputtering I sit up, breathing hard and looking around. Drake's standing in the same position he'd been before I went under, a smile on his face, his eyes gleaming. I choke again, crawling away from him and towards the couch. He takes a step and a half forward, pressing his foot into my ankle and holding me in place. If he adds all of his weight, he'll break it.

"Poor little boy. Mommy didn't want to help and the water was so hot, wasn't it?" He says with a snarl. How did he— I must've been… God… What… What is he?

"Please, just stop…" I whisper. I shouldn't have told him anything to begin with. Because now he's using his own sick sense of humor and my memories for his own pleasure; his own entertainment. But… Isn't he supposed to be helping me? Isn't that his job? To help people while they fight to recover?

"Oh, but Brad, we've barely begun." He says to me, slamming the book against the side of my head. I groan, blinking a few times before falling to the floor, passing out.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

I wake up sometime later but I don't have a clue when. Orianthi is leaning against the doorway a light smile on her face. My eyes down linger on her. The kiss Brad gave me this morning lingers and not in a good way, something was wrong with him. Maybe I'm just thinking things, things I shouldn't be thinking about. "Cass you ready?" She asks me.   
I nod and get up my thoughts in a haze; I still don't want to believe that Brad hit me yesterday. I just want to, the buildings hallways move in a blur as I enter her office. Her walls an off purple almost lavender which is odd she's the only one with walls like this. It's calming though and I sit on the small white couch in the office as she shuts the door.

My hands are shaking and she fetches me a glass of water, and then sits beside me. "Are you alright?"The blonde asks me softly.

I try to breathe normal. "I just had a long night."

"Did something happen?" She asks.

"I had a rough night with Brad…" My voice trails off.

"Brad?" Orianthi inquires.

"He's my boyfriend that's here for drug addiction. I promised him I wouldn't cut if he got over his addiction."

She smiles at me. "You really love him don't you?" She gets up grabbing a small white pill bottle. "Cassidy take one of these it will last a few hours, they'll help you be less emotional. In the meantime however would you like a journal to write in? You seem like you would like that." She says handing me a little black book.

"Thanks." I say as I take the pill and smile at her as she hands me a pen.

She mutters a polite goodbye as I walk out and I smile and begin to head back to my room. As I walk back to my room, a hand is placed on my shoulder a set of lips by my ear. "What are you so happy about pretty boy?" The voice makes me almost fall to my knees, it'd like the voice of death. My eyes glance over its Drake, I want to gag. What the hell is wrong with him?

"Why do you care?" My voice is laced with malice.

His hands dig into the side of my neck creating marks. "Listen pretty boy watch what you say. You never know what I might to you pathetic little bitch of a boyfriend."He says.

I choke. "What the fuck have you done to him?" I hiss at Drake.

A smirk tugs at his lips. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

I yank out of his grip bolting back to the room breathing heavy from running. Brad is sitting on the bed staring out into space. He seems alright, I breathe right sitting beside him. He doesn't look at me or move. "Brad you alright?" I ask him quietly.

"Get the fuck away from me you dirty bastard!" He hisses at me and I tense at his words.

"Brad…" My voice trails out.

"Get the fuck away from me!" He hisses at me.

"Brad what is wrong"- A heavy slap to me knocks me backwards onto the bed and he leans over me, his eyes in a rage.

"You're the problem. You keep…" His voice trails off as he ranks his nails down my neck making blood lines and I cringe.

"Brad what is wrong with you?" I raise my voice slightly pushing at him, he slaps me again and the impact stings a lot, it makes me wince.

"You dirty little bitch. You know what you did to me!" He hisses, and his nails rank down my shirt as I try to fight him off, it hurts, I can feel blood drip from my frame. I manage to shove him off breathing heavy, my breathing hard.  
He blinks a sudden clarity in his eyes and I bolt off the bed grabbing the journal and running out of the room into a quiet area of the ward and I drop the journal onto the table sitting and grip the pen in my hands that are shaking and my head throbs as I begin to write in small handwriting trying to forget what Brad has just done.

_ I'm letting out so far away, where that scared little boy will never find me…_

It's scattered lyrics, I don't know how long I just jolt down random ideas, I just do. When I head back to the room, Brad's asleep on the bed, light tear lines on his face. I brush my fingers over them wiping them away from his eyes. I press my lips to his forehead and whisper. "I'm sorry." His hand shifts in his sleep clinging onto mine.It's warm. I move his tiny frame over and let his arms fall around me, my breathing a little ragged, a little afraid.Just barely before I fall asleep, I feel the light pressure of his lips against mine, a soothing feeling before I fall into a dreamless slumber induced by the pills.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

_"Get the fuck away from me, you dirty bastard!" I scream. I'm done with this. I'm done with this whole… this everything. I can't take any more of it, and I'm done. He steps closer to me, his eyes angry and the Bible— that fucking Bible— is gripped tightly in his fingertips. I scream again. "Get the fuck away from me!"_

_I'm tired of everything that's happened and I can't take another day. Another day of abuse from my father and another day of neglect from my mother. Another day wondering if he's gonna hit me hard enough that I won't wake up or if it's just going to put me under for a couple of hours just for everything to start again. I step away from him farther, and my back presses into the curves of my mother. My bitch of a mother._

"_Brad— stop being such a problem." She tells me, pushing me forward with her hand, towards my father. But I manage to stop myself, and I turn towards her. My eyes narrow and I breathe deeply, stepping towards her again._

_"No! You're the problem. You keep…" I trail off, before reaching up and scratching her. She hisses, crying out for a moment before shoving me away again. Tears are streaming down her face and I manage to slip away from my father's fingers. My back is pressed to the door, my hand on the door knob. I'm ready to just go. I know people who can help me. I know people… People like Longineu…_

"_Brad, why? Why can't you be a good boy? What did we ever do to deserve this from you?" Her sobs make me want to punch her. I growl as my father's eyes burn into my soul. But according to him I don't have a soul._

_Look into a fucking mirror once in a while._

_"You dirty, little bitch. You know what you did to me!" I tell her, or rather, yell. I want to make her and my father suffer for the bruises and the cuts and the pain. But I don't have the time or the patience. I need to get out of here. I curl my fingers around the doorknob, turning it as my father starts towards me. His eyes are blazing with fury; he's got that Bible raised._

"_Let God save your soul…" He tells me. I lash out, my nails catching into the side of his neck, and I scratch him through his shirt. He howls, stumbling back a little as I rip the door open and run out…_

I blink, watching as Cassidy jumps off the bed from where we are sitting. He's breathing hard, clenching a journal to his chest as he pulls the door open and runs out. I saw blood on his shirt… I blink, looking down at my hands, seeing shirt fibers and stains of red in my nails. My heart pounds heavily in my chest and tears well in my eyes as I slip off the bed and sink to the floor. God… Why— why was I…? Why were my flashbacks making me hurt Cass? He doesn't deserve it. He doesn't know…

I need to tell him, but I'm not sure how I can. It's… It's not as simple as just saying it out loud. It's not as easy as just saying "Hey, by the way, I was abused for several years and my flashbacks are the reason I'm hurting you, sorry." I bury my face into my hands, tears trailing down my cheeks. My shoulders shake and I cry quietly. Is this why he flinched the other day when I touched him? Is this why he's not sleeping well? Is it because I'm hurting him when I don't mean to?

I drop my hands, staring down at my legs, covered by my pants. Even with the fabric, I can see the criss-crossing lattice pattern of the ex's scarring them. If I twitch my shoulders, I can feel the permanent ache from the Bible and my father's fists in the muscles. I need to tell him, I just don't know how or when would be the best time. And now he's not here. He ran because of me… Because of my fucking memories…

I inhale slowly, standing up and groaning as I do. Bruises… pain… Fucking Drake. Why is he doing this to me? To us? Isn't he supposed to be helping me get better? If anything, my anxiety is worse. It's getting hard to wake up now… And I'm hurting Cassidy now… He's only fifteen, and I'm hurting him the way my father hurt me… I bite down on my bottom lip, shuffling to the bathroom. I open the cabinet, subconsciously grabbing the bottom of pills that Drake gave me. I open the top, dropping out the dose I need before pausing. I stare at it, before dumping the entire bottle into my palm. I shift, tilting my hand and watching them all fall down, splashing into the bowl of the toilet. I lean down, pushing the handle down.

I won't do it anymore.

I tossed the empty container into the trash, heading back into the main room. I'll lie. I'll tell Drake that I'm taking my pills. I'll suffer through it, despite the fact that I'm shaking every night before I go to sleep now. How long have we been here? A few days? A few weeks? I don't even know anymore. It's beginning to blur together and all I can think about now as I crawl into bed is how I want my baby back in my arms. I blink once, tears still streaming lightly down my face. I don't know when he'll be back and I don't know what time it is. I haven't eaten lately, but strangely, I'm not hungry.

I curl into a ball on my side, staring at the opposite. I don't know when I fell asleep, but at some point in the night, I reawake to find my baby in my arms. I lean over and press my lips into his. Another tear rolls down my face. He's so beautiful, and I keep hurting him without meaning to and I'm not telling him the truth about any of it! I hate this, I hate doing this to him… But…

I can't do this without him…

I fall asleep again, dreaming only darkness. I'm thankful that there's nothing to disturb me. I wake again, finding Cass still in my arms, sleeping like a little baby and I can't suppress the smile that pulls at my lips. He's so beautiful. I reach up slowly, stroking his hair with my fingertips gently, and he stirs slightly, but those eyes don't open. He stays sleeping. Let him sleep. I sigh softly, closing my eyes again and pressing my lips to his forehead. My heart pounds quietly in my chest and there's an ache in the back of my head. My fingers tremble, but it's nothing serious. Part of me is itching for a hit, but right now I'm too relaxed to really dwell on it.

There's a gentle knock at the door, and Cassidy stirs in my arms again, lifting his head a little. My body tenses, and my heart trembles. I don't want to go. I don't want to go today, and you know what? He can't make me. I refuse, I won't, I won't… Cassidy looks over at me, his eyes tired, and I bury my face beside his on the pillow. There's another knock, followed by a voice— but it's not the one I'm fearing. It's soft, feminine. Maybe it's Cass' doctor.

"Cassidy? Cassidy, I'm coming in." She says, and the door opens slowly. A blonde with beautiful eyes pokes her head around, and her face flushes a little. "Oh, I'm sorry… Am I disturbing?" She asks, her voice quiet.

"No, it's alright…" Cassidy's voice is strained from sleep, but he rolls over in my arms to face the opposite bed where the woman sits after she enters. She's wearing a purple blouse and black pants, a white coat hanging off her shoulders. A clipboard in her grasp, she crosses her legs elegantly and sits with her back straight.

"I'm assuming you're Brad, yes?" She asks, looking in my direction. I nod once, humming in response. She smiles, but there's a sort of concern in her eyes. I wonder what Cassidy's said… No… Don't think like that.

"I'm Orianthi— I'm Cassidy's doctor." She says, her smile innocent. At least she's good for my baby. I can't say the same for Drake… But then again, I'm not supposed to say anything about him really… "Brad, who's you're doctor?" She asks after a moment of silence. I clench my jaw for a moment, my hands trembling from shakes and anxiety.

"Drake LaBry." I tell her. There's a flicker in her eyes that makes my blood run cold. Almost fear and then concern. She opens her mouth to say something when there's another knock at the door. I bury my face into the back of Cassidy's neck. His hands cover mine, squeezing them in concern as he whispers a soft "baby?" to me.

"Brad, time for your appointment." Drake says on the other side of the door.

"Brad?" Cassidy whispers, softly.

"Don't make me go." It slips from my tongue, and I freeze. He turns his head to look at me over his shoulder when the door opens. Do people have no patience in this world anymore? Fuck!

"Brad, let's go." Drake says with a gentle smile, but his eyes are burning into my soul and making me cringe. Cassidy looks over at him, and I can feel my baby tensing little by little in my arms. He doesn't like Drake, just like I don't. but he doesn't know why… Drake sighs softly, leaning against the doorway. Slowly, I unwrap my arms from around Cassidy, slipping off the bed. Orianthi gives me a worried glance. I want to stay with her and Cassidy. It's safe right here. But I have to go.

I step outside and Drake closes the door. As soon as the lock clicks, his hand grabs the back of my neck, his nails digging into the skin, and he's pulling me down the hallway. I grunt and groan, clawing at his hands and trying to get him off of me. He turns a sharp corner, down a path I'm not familiar with, and he shoves me into a room. There's a metal table and counters and cabinets. It's like a doctor's office. But it's cold in here. I crash into the metal table, shaking and turning around. His hand lashes across my face, the impact sending me down to the floor. I howled in pain, cradling my face as he grabbed me by the front of my shirt, pulling me up and slamming me down onto the table.

"When I tell you to do something, you do it." He hisses at me, spit hitting my cheek. It feels like a poison, sinking into my skin. "When you don't, I get angry…" He grabs me by the hair and pulls me up, hitting my head on the metal. I cry out, clawing at him.

"You need to learn a lesson, Brad, my boy… A lesson you're not going to forget for a very, very long time." He says, strapping my wrists to the table. I thrash, whimpering and trying to pull out of the holds, but it's futile. He straps my ankles down as well, before crossing to a cabinet. He opens it, pulling out a box and a small glass jar, no larger than the height of my pinkie finger and the circumference of a quarter. He opens the box, pulling out a syringe. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I'm whimpering a little louder. No, no… He's… No… He fills the syringe, turning towards me.

"N-no… Please, don't… Don't—" I mutter, tugging against the restraints again. He glares down at me, holding the syringe in his hand, poised and ready to plunge. His eyes are cold, merciless and sinister.

"Don't worry Brad. It's not going to hurt for long…"


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

Orianthi gives me a concerned look as Brad leaves with Drake. I swear there isn't something right with that doctor. As the door shuts behind me the blonde faces me. "Cassidy, I need to know what happened yesterday. Something isn't right." Her voice is soft, she cares about us. I know I can trust her she wants to help Brad.

I try to clear my mind trying not to remember the scratches Brad gave me yesterday. "Brad kept muttering things that didn't make any sense. It was as if he wasn't even seeing me in the room." My voice is quiet and Orianthi writes it down.

"You think he could be taking something that is trigging hallucinations?" She says softly, and I get up and head over to the dresser, there's a pill bottle. It's one I've seen before, Longineu used to deal these pills, take enough and they become addicting, and the side effects are different depending on the person. These are like street drugs they help cure addiction but give nasty side effects, I walk back to the blonde and hand her the bottle.

She lets a gasp leave her lips. "Drake what have you done? Why do you always…?" Her voice trails off.

"He what?" I can sense her discomfort; she doesn't seem to like him at all.

"I always knew there was something wrong with him as a doctor and this confirms it. No wonder the others seemed so... frightened. Drake shouldn't be even working here, these pills aren't legal. I need to report this. Cassidy, stay away from Drake. I don't want you getting hurt. You're such a pretty boy, so much potential."

I swallow I knew they weren't good news those pills. "Orianthi. I'm afraid that Brad is being hurt." I whisper just barely audible, she's about to speak but a voice cuts her off that makes me freeze completely.

"Orianthi, I need to have a chat with Cassidy." It's Drake's cold voice.

I really don't want to even leave the blonde this isn't going to go well at all. Orianthi gives me a worried look as Drake walks in. "Didn't you hear what I said?" He hisses at her.

The blonde glares at him. "Drake you have no right. He's my patient. Why don't you

worry about not fucking with other's personal lives for once?" She hissed at him not caring at all about the swearing.

"How dare you accuse—"

"I've seen the papers Drake. The names you cross off each month. What is this to you a game? They come to us for help not to be hurt and damaged more!" She hisses at him.

I hear a resounding thud as the blonde hits the floor, Drake grabs me by the arm roughly pulling me out of the room and throws me into another room and my head smashes against a wood frame of a table.

"I told you not to fucking interfere with my work." He hisses at me.

My head's throbbing from the dull pain from the impact. "I didn't." I say to him.

Drake holds up the empty pill bottle. "You're telling me you didn't take his pills. You suicidal bitch. I think you took them you're just lying to save yourself." He snarls at me throwing the pill bottle at my head and it makes my head hurt even more, everything is ringing. It hurts. Can't it stop? I don't want to hurt anymore.

I feel the prick against my skin as a blade drags down it and I scream loudly. It cuts though my skin on my wrist making me bleed and it hurts, it's not the bliss I get. He pulls the blade away as my body hits the cold titles, the colors spin and the room blurs and suddenly I fall into darkness.

"Cassidy!" Orianthi yells. "Cassidy!" She screams again.

I blink, there's a dull throbbing from wear the blade pierced my skin and my head hurts like hell. It hurts everything hurts. I don't feel the drip of blood so I should take that as a sign I have a bandage on my wrist, I have a very strong dislike now towards Drake.

"How long was I out?" My voice cracks, I must have been screaming.

"Three hours, I stopped the bleeding. Drake vanished afterwards saying you did this to yourself." The blonde helps me up and I wince my wound throbbing.

"How bad was the wound?" I ask her.

"Not bad enough to be deadly." She replies. "You hungry?"

I shake my head, a feel sicker to my stomach. "Can you just take me back to my room?"She nods and we walk down the hall and she opens my door as she hands me two pills. "That should help with the pain and your emotions Cass. Try to stay safe." I nod as I take the pills and shut the door behind me, and cringe when I see Brad on the bed.

I don't want to deal with him. Let alone his fits, it's starting to scare me a lot. I can hear him muttering again, shit. I should leave, I start heading back towards the door- "Mother where do you think you're going I wasn't finished yet…" He gets off the bed, and his eyes have an emotion I can't even name and I'm shaking like a motherfucker.

I freeze up as I feel his tiny hands grip my shoulder, his nails digging into them. "Brad don't do this." I whisper my voice quiet.

"You never cared about me. You're nothing but a dirty whore to him." His nails dig at the side of my neck and I wince as marks are itched into my neck by blood.

"Brad. Stop it." I say to him my voice louder my hands pushing at his thin frame. His nails grip my skin tighter and I wince. His nails are gripping my skin hard and this isn't right it isn't the Brad I know and when he backhands me I let a cry leave my lips, and I cringe. "What the hell is wrong with you?" I hiss at him pushing him hard causing him to fall over and hit his head against the wall and frankly I don't care right now.

"What the hell is my problem? I should be asking you that mommy? You hurt you're little boy just because he was different." His small hands wrap around my throat and I choke. "You hurt me mommy because I was different." My air source is cut off and I choke and thrash in his hold and kick Brad hard on the hip that causes him to hit his head harder against the wall drawing blood.

_What the hell have I done?_ I bolt from the room, nearly throwing up that I damaged him that way that I hurt him. I throw up acid into the china and, I nearly choke on it. I can't breathe and I'm shaking so much, so much. I don't move from the toilet for a long time, I'm shaking so much. Before I realize it I'm crying and I don't even know why. I'm crying and I don't know why.

"Cassidy? Are you alright?" It's Brad's voice and I want to die.

I open the stall door and I'm pretty sure I look like shit. "I don't want to talk." I say to him harshly walking right by him and going back to our room, he follows of course.

"Cass—"

"Brad go the fuck away!" I hiss at him, more tears clouding my vision.

"Cassidy I—"

"I don't want to hear it!" I scream at him throwing my head into the pillow.

_Just what the fuck have I done? What the fuck have I done and how could I hurt him and not feel anything. Just what have I done? What's happening to me?. How could I do this to Brad? _I fall asleep sobbing, my whole body shaking, my soul crying out as I try to get peaceful sleep that never seems to come to my poor soul.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

It's dark after Drake sticks the needle into me, shooting whatever the fuck it was in the syringe into my system, and I wake up to see Cassidy staring down at me before he bolts out of the room. My hip is aching and my head is pounding. I wince, rubbing the back of my head and feeling moisture. I freeze, bringing my hand back around and seeing blood on my fingers. I turn my head, seeing a splatter and a streak down to where I'm sitting. What happened?

I stand up and follow him to the bathroom. He's puking into the toilet. He's crying, too. My heart lurches in my chest. "Cassidy? Are you alright?" I ask him, and he comes out, his face puffy and red, his hair's a mess. Tears are streaming down his face and I feel myself choking a little. Oh God… My baby…

"I don't want to talk." He tells me, pushing passed and going back into the room. His voice has a pain laced harshness to it, and I want to just hold him. I want to ask him why he's so upset, and why the fuck is my head and hip hurting? How did I hit the wall? Was it Drake? Was… Was it Cassidy? Did Cass push me? No… Cass… Cass couldn't…

"Cass—"

"Brad, go the fuck away!" His voice gets louder. He's starting to cry again. My hands clench and unclench at my sides and my heart is pounding so hard in my chest, it feels like it's about to break. He's telling me to go? He's turned away from me and I just want to put my arms around him. But I know, somewhere deep inside, that he doesn't want me to touch him. He doesn't want me to talk to him. He doesn't want me near him and he's crying…

"Cass, I—" I need to explain to him. I don't know what happened just now, but I need to explain the other times I've seen him crying. The other times I've see the marks on him. I need to explain that it's flashbacks, that it's not because I hate him or I want to hurt him. I can't help it… I just… It's getting worse… It's getting worse and I need to tell him before it becomes too much…

"I don't want to hear it!" He screams at me, sobbing and throwing himself onto his bed, his face buried into the pillow. I lean against the wall, watching him for a long moment and gnawing on my bottom lip. I've hurt him, and now he doesn't want me near him?

I turn away and rip open the door, my heart pounding and my blood boiling as I leave, shutting the door behind me. I can't take it out on him. He's not the reason. He doesn't know. I should have… I should never have brought him here. I should never have made him suffer this with the hopes to "get better". Maybe Cassidy's gotten better with his cutting— I… I don't know. But I'm shaking from head to toe as I walk and I'm exhausted and there's one person who I want to send through a wall right about now. And it's not Cassidy. It could never be Cassidy…

"_Drake!_" I shout down the long hallway after I manage to get a good distance away from the room. I don't want Cassidy to hear me screaming like a mad man. But there's one thing for certain. One thing I know for sure I'm going to do. I'm going to tear Drake limb from limb for hurting me and Cass, and then I'm taking my baby and I'm getting the fuck out of this place. It's no good here.

"_DRAKE!_" I scream this time, turning a corner. He's standing at the end of the hall, just standing there. Like he's been waiting for me. I don't care if he's been waiting one minute or an hour. I'm going to throttle him. I'm going to squeeze the life out of this fucker even if it's the last thing that I do. I storm down the hall, my bare feet slapping the hardwoods as I walk. The closer I get, the clearer I see Drake's smug expression. Why is he so smug? I'm going to fucking kill—

A hand wraps around my waist, a clothed hand covers my mouth and nose. I freak, and on reaction I breathe in to scream. Big mistake. Colorless. Odorless. And I'm out. I realize now it was chloroform. And I wake to find myself in a familiar setting. The table I'm strapped to, the cabinets, the counters, and Drake's hovering over me with that creepy, sadistic grin on his face like he's about to dissect a bug for the first time with a rusty knife. I thrash against the bonds, and he laughs. The fucker _laughs_.

"Resistance is futile, Brad." He tells me, twirling a filled syringe between his fingertips as he leans against the table. I growl at him, tugging at the leather straps again.

"Let me go, you sick fucker!" I hiss at him, and he turns towards me a little more, leaning down and grinning like a madman. Maybe he is. Or maybe I'm the madman. I don't know anymore. I just know I want to kill him. He's making me relapse, he's making me hurt Cassidy… I think about him and I want to cry. We're here to get better. To make our relationship successful and beautiful. And all I've done is hurt him… God, Cass…

"Oh, silly Brad… You're not going anywhere. Not for a very, very long time…" He tells me in a soft, sickeningly sweet voice. It sends chills down my spine and he shoves the needle into my arm, digging into a vein before injecting the liquid into my system. I scream as it feels like my veins are set on fire, trailing up through my body and coursing like a poison. It hurts so badly. My face heats up, my heart pounds and tears form in my eyes. It feels like _fire and ice and stabbing and punching and every kind of pain. It's making my head spin_ and Drake is just standing there laughing… _Laughing_.

My back arches; _the metal feels too hot yet too cold_. It's strange. I open my eyes, staring at the ceiling and I scream, looking away again. _Spiders crawl on the ceilings and the walls, and their crawling from a central pit and down towards me. It's terrifying. I'm twitching and shaking and I can't stop looking up and staring at those spiders. Their eyes are beady red and flaming and they're beginning to crawl all over me and I can feel them sinking into my skin, infecting me_… This is crazy, this isn't happening but it is and all I can do is scream and wish for it to end…

All the while with _the spiders and their flaming eyes_, Drake leans down and whispers in my ear. And when he's not whispering in my ear, he's digging his nails into my shoulders through my shirt. And when he's not marking me, he's ripping my shirt open. I shiver and tremble. _The spiders are still crawling over me, their hairy legs tickling my face and as much as I want to stay still and ignore them I can't. There's too many of them. They hiss and spit at me and bite me_. Drake's hands grab the waist band of my pants and pull them down, but he leaves my boxers. He's got a knife in his hand. _Spiders crawl into my mouth and down my throat_. Drake digs the blade of the knife into the pre-existing scars left by my father, opening wounds that have not bled since I was a young child.

I'm shivering and screaming and bleeding and _the spiders are crawling deeper into me and tearing me apart from the inside it feels like_. He digs the knife deeper, and the familiar burn brings more tears to my eyes. How could Cassidy have ever liked the feeling of the blade in his skin, cutting him open and making him bleed? How could he…?

_The spiders are disappearing, but I feel infected and filthy_. I know it's just the drug. But it's so real, _they're crawling all over me before slipping off the table, but I don't hear them hit the floor. It's like they're just gone_. Drake is laughing and opening the cuts before he grabs me by my throat and leans in real close. "You thought you were going to get better? You thought that you and your precious little slut of a boy-toy would get better and actually be able to live in this world? No one lives in this world." He hisses at me as _the last spider pulls itself from my throat and slips off the table_. I choke, panting and wheezing and feeling light-headed.

He grabs my hair and brings my head up, slamming it back down on the metal. I cry out. "You thought that by coming you'd leave, healed? You'd leave clean? Do you know what happens to those with hopes when they come here?" He whispers in my ear, digging the blade into the skin just above my right nipple, slowly trailing it down. I fight the urge to scream, but it's hard not to.

"They die. They die with their hopes because there _is no getting better_. Not while I'm here…" He tells me, dragging the blade over my nipple. I arch, howling. Fuck it hurts. And all I can think to myself is _'Cassidy, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry…'_

"That Orianthi bitch tries to help, but she fails to realize that there is no helping anyone. No one changes. You won't change, Brad. You were abused and neglected and thus turned to drugs. You will _always_ be a druggie, and you _will_ follow in the actions of your father. You _will _hurt others as you have been hurt… Because that's your nature…" I thrash against the restraints, enraged and in pain. No! I will never be like my father…

"I bet you've already hit him on several occasions, haven't you? You've hit him just as your father hit you. It's in your blood to hurt others, isn't it?" He turns away from me, tossing the knife into the sink and reaching into a cabinet, pulling out a small container of white powder. I can't read the label, but he sets it down and puts on a pair of latex gloves. He opens the lid and takes a pinch of the powder out, turning back towards me. His brown eyes are dark, sinister… _Evil_.

"I'm not like that!" I scream at him, my voice hoarse and tears are streaming down my face. My body aches and burns and he just chuckles dark and shakes him head.

"Yes you are, Brad." He says, rubbing his fingers together, the powder falling into the cut over my nipple. The powder sizzles, burning my skin and making it bubble and I arch, crying out so loudly my ears are ringing. Drake stands there, grinning like a proud artist of his work. An artist of pain and torture, perhaps.

"Remember this, Brad…" He whispers in my ear, his tone is different, his fingers pressing into my cut and burning skin. "Cassidy is not your baby anymore… He only wants to hurt you…" My heart skips a beat from the pain, I just want it all to end…

"I'm doing this to you to make you see that Cassidy is the one wants you to suffer… He's the one who's making you relapse and hurt him. This pain, this burning… This is what he wants you to feel… Do you understand, Brad?" His voice is soft, concerned. I'm shaking and whimpering and my eyes are squeezed shut from pain. I'm crying and wanting to just _die_.

"I'm here to help you see that Cassidy… He's in the way. He's keeping you from getting better…" Cassidy…

"I… d-don't… believe you…" I choke out. My Cassidy would never do that to me…

"I noticed, earlier when you found me in the hallway, your head was bleeding… Cassidy must've done that to you… He must've been angry with you for trying to get better. Why else would he hurt you? He doesn't care about you…" Drake's voice is like a poisonous worm sinking lower and lower into the base of my brain. I scream.

"NO!" I thrash. I won't believe him! Cassidy would never want to hurt me. He… He's just… He's so scared. I need to tell him about this, I need to tell someone— anyone. I need this to stop before I hurt Cassidy anymore. Drake pulls out a different syringe; it's filled with a cloudy like liquid. He holds my arm down and injects it into me. My joints lock up and I fall still, twitching every now and then as my vision begins to darken. He leans down to my ear again.

"Let me help you, Brad… I can get rid of your pain…"


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

When I awake again, I'm shaking, shaking like hell. I can't breathe right and Brad isn't anywhere to be seen. Somehow I'm thankful for that but; something at the back of my mind tells me that isn't a good thing. I need to see Orianthi talk to her. I need to talk to her but I don't think I'll be able to today, she seemed like she was hurt yesterday.

I try to breathe and grab the black journal I had received from her. My little black book. I stare down at the blank white pages and my fingers drift over them a pen in my hands writing, just random lyrics being written. The lyrics get my mind off things; it makes my mind at ease for now. I find that writing calms me down a lot.

I manage to finish a few song drafts, hopefully one day I'll be able to sing these. That would be great.

"Cassidy?" It's her, oh thank god.

"Yeah?" I answer closing the journal and placing it on burrow placing the pen on top of it.

The blonde smiles at me. "You've a little boy standing by the desk out there. He says he knows you."

My face lights up a little bit, and I grab my journal off the burrow. It's Tommy. God I love the little blonde boy so much.

I walk with Orianthi down the hall, and my blood freezes off in the distance I can see Drake smiling at Tommy sitting at the table. I hope to hell he never sees him, or is in a place like this. The little blonde looks up and smiles at me. "Cass where have you been?" He says softly, he sounds like he misses me.

"I've haven't been feeling well Glitterbaby." It his nickname I've given to him, he loves it, he loves seeing my work too.

"Is that boy here too? Longineu is worried about him." His voice is soft.

I try not to think about what happened with me and Brad. "Yeah he's here. He's a friend of mine." I say to the blonde.

Tommy frowns. "Cass, what's wrong?" His voice is worried.

"Nothing you need to worry about Glitterbaby. Things will work out don't worry."

Tommy sighs. "But Cass, I don't like seeing you upset. It makes me upset."

"Tommy look maybe someday when you're older you'll understand but right now I'm going through a lot—"

"It's because of what you used to do isn't it. Why you're here." Tommy's voice is sharp and Orianthi smiles.

"Tommy look I—"

"Cassidy, just promise me you'll be home soon. I miss you. I liked it when you sang." Tommy pouts.

I laugh ruffling his hair. "Alright. I'll come home soon; I have some songs I wrote too. I'll have to sing them to you one day." I smile at him; I can never stay mad at him.

He smiles. "Really Cass? Yay!" He says his voice is so pure, so innocent.

Orianthi kneels beside me and whispers, "I think he needs to leave Drake keeps looking at him. I don't like it, it doesn't feel safe." I nod before going to speak to Tommy.

"Tommy, you should head home. Your parents will want you back home, and someone needs to tell Longineu we're safe." I say to him kissing his forehead and he smiles.

"Alright. Be safe." He says as Orianthi takes him by the hand and leads him out, I have a bone to pick with Drake.

I see him and get up and he smiles innocently at me. "What a charming little boy. So pretty..." His voice trails off.

"Don't ever think about it!" I snarl at him. No one touches Tommy. No one. That kid doesn't need anything being done to his innocent soul. No way is he even touching him.

"Why Cass I never said anything about that. He's just an innocent child. I don't hurt children."

My temple throbs at his innocent fluid voice and it sickens me. "What a load of bullshit. You are such a fucking liar!" I hiss at him, and he grabs me roughly by the hair dragging me into a medical ward that is empty and slams me against the wall.

"Lying who said I was lying? You ever think your bitch of a boyfriend lies so you won't know his story?" Drake hisses in my ear, and I kick in the hips throwing him off balance there's a lot of power behind my kicks even though I'm skinny.

"He wouldn't lie to me you bastard. Brad doesn't lie to me!" I hiss at him and my hand connects with his cheek and I slaps him and before he can grab me I bolt back to my room, my breathing heavy from running.

My breathing is ragged as I sit on the bed and I'm panting hard. Brad still isn't back and I'm getting worried now. Real worried as much I am scared to see him. He hasn't been in the room at all today, and that frightens me. Just where is he? I close my eyes and lie against the pillow, my eyes closing and I find myself falling asleep, I don't see Drake's taunting smirk as I drift asleep.

"You fucking cunt!" A voice whispers in my ear, and nails rank down my skin. _Oh god. Oh god no. Please let this be a dream_. The press of nails against my skin gets harder and I try not to open my eyes. _No I don't want this to be real. It feels so wrong._ I swallow trying to breathe right. A nip to my earlobe makes me want to scream but my voice is caught in my throat.

"You're nothing but a whore. How could you think I loved you?" It's Brad's voice and it sounds so sinister. _No it can't be him. I won't believe it._ _He wouldn't do this to me._ My eyes open and I look up there's pure hate in his eyes, this isn't him. This isn't the Brad I know. It scares me and I push at him, I'm so frightened and I'm shaking so much.

His lips drag down my skin, and I want to scream but my voice is caught in my throat as he bites down hard on my neck enough to draw blood and my hands push harder at his body shaking. "Stop it!" I scream at him and my words fall on deaf ears, his fingers undo my shirt and this time I scream. I fucking scream because this isn't right. I keep pushing at him and he doesn't give up.

A laugh echoes from the doorway and my blood runs cold. _Drake._ I let another scream echo off my lips, struggling against Brad and kicking at him. When I scream again, Brad covers my mouth with one of his hands and tears prick at my eyes.

_Brad stop it. Can't you see what you're doing stop it. Stop it. _By the time I can scream again, bites- more like bruises are on my body and I'm naked and I can hear Drake's sadist laughing and I let out a higher scream, a much higher one and manage to push Brad off me. I throw on the clothing somehow and I roughly push Drake aside, it's the middle of the night and I don't care, I'm running and I'm not stopping and all the awhile I fail to realize the hurt shimmering in Brad's eyes as I vanish off into the night.

And as I exist the building and my tears fall down, I realize how much it hurts and how broken I really am and I try to let go of it but I just can't, even as I walk back home in the dark and my mother is whispering are you alright and what happened baby. I just cry my soul out in the dark in my mother's arms afraid and scared of my feelings and what Brad has done.

But deep in my heart I still know one thing.

_I love him._


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

He's got me, hooked, lined and sunk. And I can't do anything about it. I can't do anything to fight him because then he'll hurt Cassidy…

I'm sitting, strapped to a chair when he barges into the room. His eyes are dark, angry, and I snarl at him. I don't want to be here, but he's kept me in this room for God knows how long now. He lashes out, slapping me across the face before going back to his pacing. My cheek burns with the contact of his skin on mine, but I otherwise don't do or say anything more. I clench my jaw, glaring down at the floor as he swears and mumbles to himself, before he rummages through the cabinets. Glasses and boxes clink and clang against one another, and I lift my hateful glare to his back. He's still talking to himself, but I can't hear him.

He turns back towards me, holding a syringe between his fingers and a bottle of pills in his other hand. My heart pounds as I tug against the leather straps. No, I can't take anymore of this. I won't! He chuckles, dark and sinister. "There's no way I, myself, can take care of him." He mutters, but I don't understand what he's talking about. He crosses to me, setting the pill bottle down on the side table next to me, and he kneels down so his eyes are lower than mine. I glare down at him, breathing heavily through my nose.

"He's interfered too much. He's getting everyone suspicious. It's time for him to be broken, Brad…" He whispers, grabbing my upper arm and jamming the needle into my skin. I cry out; he's not gentle with anything, and he drains the contents into my system. I can't count the number of things he's injected into me or the number of times he's cut me and dumped acids into the wounds. It hurts to breathe and my vision gets a little fuzzy. He grabs the pills and dumps out two into his hand. He grabs my jaw, forcing my mouth open. He shoves the pills inside, but I keep them on my tongue. I won't swallow them. He can't—

"Swallow. Now." He tells me, and I glare at him. I shove the pills into my cheek and I spit on his face, glaring. He hisses and slaps me, digging his nails into my chest through my shirt and raking them down. I bite down on my bottom lip, resisting the urge to just scream. "Swallow. The. Pills." I whimper, swallowing them as much as I don't want to. He smiles, petting my head before slapping me across the face again.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask him, my voice soft and hoarse. He blinks once before standing straight, slowly undoing the leather straps around my wrists and my ankles. I'm shaking head to toe a little bit, but I don't move other than that. I've learned not to. I… I'm not sure I'm going to like the answer he gives me, but I need one. I need to know why… Why me? Why Cassidy? Why us? Why now, when we've been trying so, so hard to get better and he's only making us worse?

"Because, Brad…" He says, grabbing me by the collar of my shirt and pulling me out of the chair. "I _like it_. It's _fun_." He throws me across the room, my head hitting the floor. He pounces on me, keeping me on my chest as he grabs me by my hair, slamming my head into the floor over and over and over and over…

When I wake up, I know something's wrong. I can see and hear everything I do, but it's as if someone else is controlling me. Like I've been split in half and the alter ego is the one who's doing all the work and I'm reclining in the back of my mind, tied to the chair and my eyes forced open to witness the horror. I'm walking down the hallway, by myself, towards mine and Cassidy's room. But there's a malice that I feel that is foreign. Why am I full of hatred? My vision darkens again, but I know I'm still walking. Everything is hurting and my head is pounding. I feel my hand wrap around the door knob, turning it and pushing the door open.

Sight returns to me, and I see Cassidy asleep on the bed. My heart swells and I rush to him, brushing his short hair out of his face. I stare down at him for a long moment. I don't know how long I have before the feelings of malice and anger come back. Tears sting my eyes and I want to just take him away from here. I lean down, pressing my lips to his in a chaste kiss. I don't know what Drake's done to me or what might've happened to Cassidy, but something in me tells me that this night… Things are going to change…

"I love you…" I tell him, but he doesn't stir. He's sleeping like an angel and I shiver violently as my head spins a little, darkness and then we're back and I'm no longer crying, nor is there any love in my hands or on my tongue. Carelessly, I roll him so he's flat on his back, and my lips are curved downward into a scowl; disgusted and loathing. I slip my hands under his shirt, my nails digging into his chest as I lean down, whispering in his ear.

"You fucking cunt!" He twitches, his body tensing as I drag my nails down. I can't control it. He squeezes his eyes shut; he's whimpering. He doesn't want to believe that I'm doing this and _I don't want to believe I'm fucking do this_. I can't… I can't… I… Fuck, Cassidy, I'm sorry, I'm so, so—

I nip his ear lobe, hissing at him again. "You're nothing but a whore! How could you think that I loved you?" There's a rage in my voice that makes me scared, but it doesn't show. He looks up at me, fear in his eyes and disbelief. I try to show sorrow, apology, but it doesn't work, and I know this. Because he's still staring at me in fear, whimpering and choking on screams as I dig into him more and more.

In moments, I've bruised and scarred him, stripped him of his clothing. I stop thinking, I stop trying to stop myself and I just let these foreign actions take hold because I'm getting more frustrated with myself. I'm hating myself and I'm watching as I plunge deep into my baby… My Cassidy— and he's screaming so loudly. I'm raping him, and yet _I'm not_. I hear Drake laughing, and I know he's at the door. He's watching me hurting my lover. He's watching me sink deep into Cassidy over and over, destroying his soul and any love he has for me now. But I can't do anything to stop it.

Cassidy's screaming, crying and begging me to stop. I want so badly to tell him that I can't, but I don't speak. I don't even finish. He pushes me away and grabs clothes, dressing faster that I've seen possible and he's gone, out the door and passed Drake. I stare after where he's gone, my eyes swimming with hurt and pain. Drake watches him flee down the hall before he turns back to me. The glint in his eyes makes me shiver and I pull my pants back on, tying the drawstring.

"You did well," he says, touching my shoulder. I shy out of it, shoving him away from me.

"Fuck you! I would… I would never have hurt him if it wasn't for your fucking drugs and your fucking beatings! We came here to get help and you're just fucking our lives up!" I scream at him. I shove him several times, gripping his shoulders and slamming his back repeatedly into the wall. He glares down at me but he doesn't fight. He just takes my wrists in his hands.

"Yes you would have, Brad." He tells me, and I scream in frustration.

"No! This is all your fucking fault! If it weren't for you, Cassidy would still fucking be here, we'd be getting better! Fuck you! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck—" his palm lashes across my face and he sends me to the floor. He's an angry tower of raging black in the near darkness of the room. I tremble, tears streaming down my face as he grabs me by my hair, pulling me to my feet. I cry out, tears falling off my face as he drags me from the room. I don't know where he's taking me, and, quite frankly, I don't care. I just… Cassidy…

"It was your decision to come here." He whispers, and my heart skips a beat. This is true.

"It was your decision to _get better_." He stresses those last two words. He shoves me into an empty room, slamming the door shut and locking it. I tremble on the floor; hard wood and cold. He stalks towards me, kicking me in my ribs. Once. Twice. Five times. Ten times. I lose count. I'm sure my ribs are breaking. But the only real breaking pain I feel is the knowledge that I've lost Cassidy forever. I've lost my baby because of my recklessness and my past. I've lost him…

"You're nothing but an animal… A dirty, hopeless animal…" Drake hisses, digging his nails into my legs, opening the fresh cuts. My head swims with pain and loss and I don't feel the cuts of the knives or his nails, I don't feel the acid powders or the drugs or anything that he puts into me. I don't feel it because I've lost the one thing that has always been important to me. And every time I saw him I only hurt him.

I guess there is something good in Cassidy leaving. I don't have to hurt him anymore. I don't have to try to hold him only to have him flinch because I've hit him. He's safe. He's out of here. He can be free and he can heal and maybe, just maybe, he'll forget about all of this. Time heals all wounds, doesn't it? Maybe time will heal the wounds and the scars I've left on him. Maybe time will make him forget about me. As much as that makes me want to scream and cry, it's probably for the best.

'_I love you, Cassidy…_' I think to myself, closing my eyes. Whilst I don't feel anything, there's only so much my body can take before it shuts into a world of darkness. This darkness, though, will only last for maybe a few hours. A day if I'm lucky. But I know that when I wake up I'm going to be facing a world where Drake is my teacher of pain and suffering. I know that when I wake up, I'm going to be different. I already am. I may not have gotten "better", but I'm different.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**   
_Four Years Later_

 

I open my lips taking a drag of cigarette standing outside my house. There's not a doubt in my mind that he's horrified by what he has done. The cancer stick passes though my lips, before I throw it in the ashtray, smoking was a nasty habit I picked up after well I don't want to think about that anymore. The others had left awhile ago; Tommy and Adam were sleeping with each other in peace.

Soft footsteps make me look up; I meet his eyes and swallow. I purse my lips. "Brad." I say softly.

"Cassidy I—"

"Don't explain yourself we all know it was that fucker's fault. Was he right though? About you lying to me?" I don't stand close to him, I don't have the will to even after everything that has happened.

"Cassidy I was going to tell you. I never had the chance to." His voice is pained; it makes me want to hold him.

"Let's go to your apartment, I have people that would be horrified to see you in my home."  
He nods and we're silent as we walk down the street.

The apartment is the same as I remember it. What we did here when I met him. Our minds think alike as we go to sit on his bed, and he's quiet. I crack a smile at him. "I can still remember you catching me with the heroin that night. I never used it again." I say to him grinning.

He lets out a laugh. "I don't think I could ever forget that, it was like candy being stolen from a kid when I caught you with it. Cass. I need to tell you about something. Something I should have told you before we went to that ward and everything fell apart…" His voice trails to a low tone.

"Go on." I say to him my tone soothing even after what he has done. I forgive Brad, I always will because I love him.

"I was abused by my father. Drake took advantage of it and started abusing me, it triggered memories and I..." I could see the tears before he knew it and I pulled his smaller body into my frame as sobs ranked though his body. "I'm so sorry Cass. I really am." He whispered sobbing against my shoulder.

I clutch him tighter as he trembles, and gently kiss the top of his forehead trying to sooth him. "I'm not leaving you again. I want you to get better. You need to." I whisper to him, and kiss his forehead again and his eyes are so pain filled it hurts to look at them.

"So did you ever get to become a musician?" He says grinning though his tears.

"Not yet, but I have songs I'm writing." I pull out a sheet of paper lyrics have been put on. Brad's eyes fell on my song Spindle.

"Sing that one without playing." He says softly.

I bit my lip before nodding then begin singing softly._"Falling deeper drifting out. I was looking for love but this is what I found… So I swallowed it down. Everything fading now and I couldn't keep together even If I knew how. So I swallow it down. So hold me down before I float away, in my darkest hour I go insane…_

_Spin the spindle, spin the spindle_

_The goblins in the corner got their eyes on me. Take a sip poison apple see. And all of the monsters I've kept under my bed there the hardest to forget. So hold me down before I float away in my darkest hour I go insane insane. Insane._

_Spin the Spindle, Spin the Spindle, Spin the Spindle, the spindle, the spindle. Insane. Insane. Insane._ _Insane. Insane.."_

I choked on a sob as I finished singing. My throat throbbed but I didn't care. Brad took me into his arms.

"Don't you dare cry." He whispered to me kiss my forehead; I hadn't felt that in so long. I missed him so much. So fucking much.

"I missed you." I said to him and pain was so evident in my voice.

"I have you now. I won't ever hurt you again. Cassidy I love you." Brad whispers , and I choke on my tears as he kisses my softly. Something I have missed so much, that I haven't felt in so long. So so long. He pulls away a soft smile on his lips.

"We'll get through this." I whisper. "Love you too." And as our lips meet again, I pray to god that things will finally stop hurting and things will be better for the both of us and I secretly feel like I've betrayed Tommy as Brad kisses my lips but its soon forgotten as we fall onto the bed into a state of bliss that neither of us has seen for a long time.


End file.
